A Lesson In Propriety
by LSgrimm91
Summary: Elsie Hughes moves to England to study at Westburn University and finds herself drawn to history professor, Charles Carson.
1. A new Beginning

**So I'm having a crack at returning to writing after nearly... Oh, 3 years? Once upon a time I considered myself acceptable, but I'm afraid I've become very rusty. I've read plenty of truly lovely Chelsie fics and thought it was high time I contributed to the fandom. I am operating without a Beta for this story (I need the discipline). I don't know a lot about Uni's in the UK, so I invented one. Also, I am Australian and will stay true to my understanding of spelling and jargon. As I say to conclude all my author's rambles (if you've read anything of mine before): Enjoy!**

 **Briefly: What if Elsie develops feelings for her history lecturer, who happens to be Charles? Younger Chelsie at University.**

 _~EC~_

 _1341  
Thurs 29th January, 2015_

Her taxi drifted smoothly through the country roads of St Giles, houses wisping past in a flurry of pasture green and stately coffee brick. It was as if the houses were merely mounds growing in the middle of the endless lush fields that engrossed her since arriving in England. Scotland continued to fall away as Elsie considered the change she was making in her life. At twenty-three she was perhaps a bit late to begin her tertiary studies but if she hadn't escaped the farm now, she probably never would. Though the death of her sister still gave her heart cause to ache terribly, it did bring with it a feeling of liberation.

Still, she tucked her scarf into her jacket nervously. Moving away from Argyll was daunting and the prospect of moving in with a stranger was another thing entirely to her. Of course she'd made as much of an effort as possible to get to know her knew roommate. A younger local girl, Anna, who also was starting at Westburn, would serve as her guide. It would be just the two of them in their North Lincoln house but the rent was manageable and within walking distance of the campus.

Her cab finally slowed and pulled up at a small cottage like house. Elsie leaned towards the window, taking in the high windows and ivy covering much of the exterior. The gardens looked well established and well kept. On the step sat a young blonde slip of a girl scratching something in a notebook. She looked up and Elsie had to assume this must be Anna.

She took a breath to steady herself and opened the door, smiling to the Anna who'd bouncily approached to greet her. God, the girl looked like a child still.

"Hello! Are you Elsie?" she smiled, warming Elsie with her abounding cheeriness.

"I am. You must be Anna," Elsie nodded and smiled, shaking Anna's dainty hand.

"I thought I'd give you a hand to move your things, if you wanted," she offered, following Elsie around the back of the car where the driver had popped the boot.

"I didn't bring a lot but I wouldn't say no." Her two bags of luggage attested to this fact.

"Well, you're not joking about that," Anna tilted her head and smiled again. "It's probably a good thing. My uncle's house is well furnished and I've not bought a lot either. Just enough to sort out my room." She took the smaller luggage bag as Elsie paid the driver, hefting her largest bag up from the ground. "Besides, less to keep clean."

Elsie chuckled nervously as Anna led her up the path to the front door and pushed it open.

"It's not like we'll be here a lot anyway. Or at least, I won't be. The campus has a really great study hall with a little cafe that I can haunt all day." Anna instantly began up the stairs with her bag so Elsie simply followed, trying to take in the house and listen to her new friend at the same time.

"I think I'll be the same," Elsie mumbled quietly, following Anna into a decent sized room with a large queen bed whose head was pushed up against a very large window. The paint and moulding looked old but in good repair. A modern desk and chair sat snugly in the corner and a well loved recliner in the opposite corner. A large white wardrobe stood imposingly on the other side of the bed; more than enough for her limited luggage. It was better than the small space she'd occupied back home and the prospect of a large bed in which she could sleep like a starfish wasn't unappealing.

"Now, if you like, we can go shopping together and split the cost. I don't think I'd like to go through and label all my food," Anna grinned, throwing Elsie's bag onto the bed. It bounced up and down, promising a lush mattress and thick blankets.

"That's a good idea. I'm fine with splitting the costs down the middle." Elsie rubbed her hands together and slowly sat on the edge of the bed. "Were you planning on heading out today? I'm famished but I'd like to get my bearings."

Anna waved her hand and threw her thumb over her shoulder, "Oh yeah, I was going to take you across to the campus and down to Beryl's. If you're like the rest of us you'll basically eat mostly out of there. "

Elsie shrugged a shoulder and made mouthed a silent 'yeah'.

"Alright, you sort yourself out up here and when you're ready, come down and I'll give you the wi fi password and then we'll head up to campus."

"Thanks Anna," Elsie smiled warmly. She still felt a bit nervous, but Anna had been nothing but welcoming. Despite the girl's size, her kind manner made her seem older than nineteen.

Her roommate silently left with a comforting smile, closing the door without shutting it entirely. Elsie looked to her right out the window that headed her new bed. University would be a dramatic change of pace for her. Instead of constantly caring for her ill sister, or working on the farm, she could focus solely on herself and her studies.

She hadn't had a chance to do that; she'd finally have control over her use of her time. Make friends. Heaven forbid, get a boyfriend. No, she'd have too much schoolwork to have time for a boyfriend. And she didn't have the patience to deal with any of the randy lads at home; it was unlikely they would be different here.

 _~ EC ~_

 ** _Scurries back under rock. All thoughts are welcome if you wish to leave some._**


	2. Collide

**Well I'm really surprised and pleased by the positive response! I thank you all very kindly for leaving reviews and the recommendations on Tumblr. I do wish to thank the guests who left a review. I wish I could reply to you! Anyway, Charles and Beryl. Cos she needs a starring role in all Chelsie fics. And just ignore the motorbike thing. I just think it's Charles' like secret rebelliousness coming out. please: Enjoy!**

~ 2 ~

Charles threw the dusty canvas cover over his T100 Triumph Bonneville, coughing at the tickle in his throat it evoked. He was back at Westburn; it didn't feel like five years had passed since he graduated but now he would return as a lecturer. It would be strange, but he'd manage. He'd simply be standing at the front of the class rather than sitting in a chair.

He pulled down the roller door and pulled the switch to the garage light. He knew exactly why he'd returned here of all places, rather than moving on to another institution. The whole business with Alice and Grigg simply became too awkward; Westburn was familiar. It was comfortable. The halls hadn't changed and Beryl still remembered how he liked his coffee.

It was safe.

He still had a few weeks to prepare before the next semester and it was time to start planning his lectures but thoughts of Beryl and her charming little cafe on the campus gave his stomach cause to growl.

It didn't take a lot of internal argument for him to lock his front door and slide into his car.

The familiar jingle of the bell above the front door calmed him, the smell of warm pastries and freshly ground coffee welcoming him in.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!" The brash welcome brought a wide grin to his lips as he laid eyes on Beryl Patmore who was juggling two teacups as she weaved between tables.

"Hello Mrs Patmore," he smiled warmly down at the little redhead as she deposited the tea at a table and approached, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Well, let me get a look at you," she lifted her chin, casting her critical eye over him. "Still too skinny, by the look of ya. You best sit down and I'll bring you that espresso cheesecake you used to like."

"You're too good to me, Mrs. Patmore," he chuckled, looking around for a spare table. Not seeing one immediately, he suddenly turned to fell two hands pressed to his chest. It startled Charles and his hands instantly came to the woman's shoulders.

"Oh! I'm sorry! Excuse me," a young mahogany haired woman apologised in her thick Scottish accent. The tiny blonde behind her suppressed a cheeky snigger.

Knowing it was likely he had his hands on a student, Charles quickly released her.

"It's quite alright," he shook his head, rejecting her apology. He was a tall fellow who took up a lot of space. He would have to be more careful. The girls both smiled up at him as he stepped to the side and allowed them to pass. He only briefly considered that the Scottish girl looked a bit older than his usual students, but the thought was quickly lost when Beryl arrived with a small plate and a cup of coffee.

He pulled out her chair for her before sitting in his own, knowing she would never allow him to push her in.

"So how have you been, Charles? Well I suppose you'd be Mr Carson now. Not a student anymore; got that doctorate now."

He shook his head once, slicing a bite of cheesecake with his spoon.

"A bit up and down but that's life I suppose. It's very odd to think of myself teaching here."

"What happened to that missus of yours? She come too?"

He knew the topic would come up; he just didn't think Beryl would be so quick. Then again, he'd brought Alice in once or twice when they had occasion to visit.

"She wasn't my missus." He shook his head. He'd never asked her to be so.

"Certainly looked like it."

"I admit... there was a time I wished she was. But..."He shook his head again.

"No good?"

"She preferred the head of the Dramatic Arts department. I walked in on them..." He wasn't sure how to explain without- well, _explaining_. Beryl frowned thoughtfully but her eyebrows popped when she caught on.

"Oh... Oh, I'm sorry Charles."

Charles shook his head dismissively.

"Don't be. I didn't make my feelings known very well. So we weren't involved but I had planned- or at least hoped we would be." He used his cheesecake spoon to stir his coffee and made an effort to perk up. "Besides, I'm back with a clean slate. Robert Crawley has let me back through the gates and handed me some history modules."

"Well I know you'll do well here and if you're lucky, you may just find yourself a nice lady-"

"Don't start Beryl." He cut in, but his smile told her he wasn't angry with her. She meant well but his private life was his. Not that he had much of one. He'd liked Alice, at one point he may have loved her but she didn't have the patience and latched onto Charlie Grigg. Not that Charles could blame her really. He never considered himself to be particularly interesting to women. At least not the ones he set his eyes on.

A tall, lanky lad with a oversized nose with eyebrows to match who enthused over Edwardian history and jaunted around the countryside visiting stately homes in his free time was not something to attract the 'Nice, pretty girls' that Beryl once insisted he deserved.

He sighed and promptly changed the subject to her latest intake of girls who worked casually in the cafe. He allowed the complaining and huffing to carry on as long as his lack of a love life remained a topic not to be further discussed.

~EC ~

 **I have no timeline for updates. I'm two chapters ahead and simply post as I complete a chapter. Reviews are humbly appreciated. Proper Chelsie next chapter :)**


	3. Distraction

**Hello everyone! Thank you for the kindness and support! You are all truly lovely. My apologies for not replying to all reviews, I'll jump onto that. Some Chelsie in this, but nothing too fast. Mating tortoises and all. Please note the times and dates, a normal season of Downton can stretch over two years and my Chelsie fic will not have them simply thrown together and making out on the first day. Yes, I know, I threw them together last chapter. Or... bumped them together. I'll shut up now. please; Enjoy!**

~EC ~

 _0956  
Mon 9th Feb 2015_

Elsie leaned back lazily in her seat in the lecture hall listening to her history teacher, chewing the end of her pen slowly as she continued to stare at him while he discussed the Great Depression of British Agriculture.

She couldn't put her finger on it. She'd met him somewhere; it was his deep voice and the general appearance of the man that gave her a frightful case of déjà vu. Perhaps out in the courtyard or simply in passing but it was annoying her terribly.

"...But when we consider that the landed aristocracy were the wealthiest class in England, we can begin to understand the implications on the upper class and..." he carried on, waving one hand with the other firmly in the pocket of his dark jeans. As his eyes drifted across the class, his gaze fell on her.

Elsie abruptly ripped the pen from her mouth and sat up straighter. She would have to stop staring at her lecturer. She had to admit, he was a subject worth looking at. Mostly his age puzzled her. He was clearly younger than the other lecturers at Westburn; perhaps he was in his early thirties. Although he had a memorable nose and the bushiest eyebrows she'd seen since leaving Argyll, he was also well presented.

So used to the rough linens and scruffy beards of farmers from home was she, that a neatly attired young teacher was actually unusual to her. His dark designer jeans and polished shoes accentuated his long legs. Gosh, he was a tall man. His vest under his suit jacket was initially distracting. What young person wore those now days? Some of the older professors, sure. But the formality was balanced with an open collar and his dark, unbrushed curls that she could now see his wisps of silver.

Not that she should be thinking such things, but she'd readily admit that Mr Carson wasn't the most unattractive man walking the planet.

Then again, he was her _teacher_. Nothing would ever come of thinking such things if she kept her observations to herself. He was safe in that way. She'd had little crushes on a teacher or two back home and she knew as an adult such thoughts were more dangerous. From a distance he was reasonable attractive and obviously intelligent. It made her feel like a woman to stare at a man every now and then.

She was shaken abruptly from her revere by the snapping of a student. Elsie didn't realise she'd been staring so long.

"I didn't say that I agreed with the legal systems standing on the subject, but-" Mr Carson argued, holding an open palm to the objecting student.

Elsie leaned forward and looked down a few rows to the dark haired lad sitting in clear agitation.

"I know that, but I want to why anyone would tolerate service after a labour government came into power back then."

Good lord, weren't we just talking about agriculture?

"That's mostly a question of opportunity. If you'd really like to know more I'll happily make time later to discuss it with you, mister...?"

"Barrow. Thomas Barrow. And no thank you, Mr Carson. I think I'll be alright today."

With that he shouldered his backpack, pushed his thickly framed glasses on top of his head like sunglasses and left the class. Elsie lifted her eyebrows in surprise as she watched him leave. Once he'd left, everybody returned their attention to Mr Carson who shook his head and flicked his wrist to expose his silver watch.

"Mister Barrow is correct that the lesson is over. Good afternoon,'' he nodded, effectively dismissing the class.

Elsie stood and packed her notebook into her bag and replaced the lid on her water bottle. The class slowly drifted up the aisle but she chose not to push in. While she waited, her phone, books and bottle folded into her arms, she cast her eyes down at Mr Carson while he tidied his desk. She didn't linger on him too long. It wouldn't do to be caught.

The last of the class trickled out and Mr Carson began his own trek up the stairs when she found a space to slide in. Her close attention to the steps blinded her to the accidental elbow from another student. Her bottle popped out of her elbow and tumbled back down the stairs.

"Oh, bloody hell..." She muttered as she turned to follow her drink but slowed when Mr Carson stopped, one foot on a higher step and picked it up.

"Thank you for that," she sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. He handed her bottle over and she couldn't ignore the lack of a wedding ring. That, of course, meant nothing. But she noticed.

"Not a problem. You seemed rather engrossed today, um..." he frowned, not knowing her name.

"Elsie... Hughes. And I was. Sort of." The questioning lift of his eyebrows distracted her for a moment, but she gathered her wit and spoke honestly, "I was a bit off with the fairies; I was trying to work out where I'd seen you before."

"I believe we bumped into each other at Mrs Patmore's cafe a few weeks ago; quite literally. You had a friend with you."

Elsie unsuccessfully clicked her fingers. "That's it! That's where I met you. I couldn't pick it." Should she be glad that he remembered her? Ideally, no. But she was.

"Well..." he looked to the ground, his fingers fidgeting nervously at his side. "...if it means you'll be paying more attention in my class, I'm glad to have been of help."

They turned and continued up the stairs side by side, careful not to brush one another.

"I do pay attention."

"Yes, you do. Please forgive me for suggesting otherwise. What course are you actually studying?"

"Heritage Management." She was amused by the sudden lift of his eyebrows and was pleased to have surprised him. "I thought a few history modules would complement that well."

"What kind of career did you have in mind?" She seemed to have captured his attention.

"When I was in high school, we took a trip to see the Edinburgh Military Tattoo, but I really loved Edinburgh Castle. We visited other places like Linlithgow, Holyrood Abbey and those kinds of places and I thought about how I would like to see them survive into the future."

They reached the door at the top of the stairs; beside her, Mr Carson was silent. His expression told her he was processing what she'd said, but beyond that he was difficult to read. Was he shocked by her unusual choice?

"My interest lies mostly in Victorian and Edwardian era history, so I may not be able to offer much assistance if you're focus is in Scottish heritage-"

"Don't worry; I'm sure I'll be asking your advice at some point in the future." At the risk of sounding like she could be propositioning him, she changed the subject. "That's if Thomas Barrow doesn't keep getting upset about social issues. He needs a clip about the ears."

The deep chuckle beside her sent a shiver through her body.

"Not to be rude Miss Hughes, but I do wonder how old you are to be talking like that."

"I'm twenty three. I know I'm a bit older than your usual entrants, but the chance to study took a while to come up. If you don't mind my asking Mr Carson, I'm curious how old _you_ are. You look very young to be a professor."

She didn't miss his shy tug at his sleeve and the swallow before he spoke. He gave her a kind, but polite smile.

"Twenty nine."

Really? He must have completed his doctorate very quickly. Her head tilted to the side, allowing her to quickly take a closer look at his distinguishing features. So much for avoiding conversation that would be perceived as inappropriate.

"Really? I'm sorry; I figured you were young but-"

"Is it the grey hairs or the field of study?"

"Clearly, young people can enjoy history too, Mr Carson. It was the silver hair."

He smiled in thanks, but looked away quickly and touched the hair above his ears with the tips of his fingers. "Well, silver sounds much more distinguishing than grey."

They slipped into a silence that quickly became awkward owing mostly to the fact that they now stood very much alone and very close to one another. Mr Carson was the first to move, pushing the door open for her. She was extraordinarily aware of his movements, noting how much room he gave her to pass.

"I'll not keep you, Miss Hughes. I'll see you next time."

She stepped out into the courtyard and smiled over her shoulder. "You certainly will, Mr Carson."

~ EC ~

 **I think I'll stick to Elsie's POV, but may occasionally see things from Charles'.**


	4. Lord Byron

**Thank you beautiful Chelsie lover! *Kisses*  
Fluff everywhere. My poor computer. **

~ 4~

 _1633  
_ _Fri 29th May 2015_

"But don't you think he's a bit old for you?" Elsie frowned as she reached for a book in the campus library. The internet was all well and good, but sometimes a book was a better reference for an assignment.

Anna sighed thoughtfully, her shoulders slumping a little.

"How can anyone say twenty five is too old? It's like, six years. It seems like a lot now but if he were fifty-five and I fifty, nobody would bat an eyelid..."

Six years. The same as twenty three and twenty nine.

"... and he has treated me with more respect than any other man I know. He's not pushed me once. It's nice to have what I want taken into consideration. I know he likes me but I feel comfortable around him. It's actually refreshing."

Elsie couldn't argue with that. A decent guy was hard to come by these days.

"Refreshing compared to what?"

Anna was quiet for a moment as she leaned her shoulder against the bookshelf. She did her research mostly online.

"I've dated some real idiots."

Elsie didn't need elaboration. She and Anna were getting along well; she'd easily consider them friends but neither were the type for deep and meaningful conversations. At least not yet.

"Say no more." Finding her last book, she stepped past Anna and headed for the front desk.

"I'm heading home. Are you coming too?"

Elsie pulled her phone from her back pocket and checked the time. Two Facebook notifications.

"I think I'll hang back for a bit. I'll be there a bit later."

Anna nodded and adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "Alright then, don't be too late," she called as she turned to leave.

"Since when are you my mother?" Elsie smiled; usually she was the parent in the house. Anna simply laughed and quickly waved as she passed through the automatic doors. Elsie shook her head and returned her attention to the lady behind the counter, currently too busy to attend to her.

Throwing her bag up onto the worn surface, she pulled out some of the books already her bag. Ugh, she really needed to clean this out. Her diary and the copy of 'Selected Poems of Lord Byron' were haphazardly deposited beside her as she began to reorganise and make room.

The sudden sliding of another book across the counter startled Elsie. She jumped a little, pressing a hand to her chest and looked up into the now familiar face of Mr Carson.

"Don't sneak up on people like that Mr Carson; you won't have any students left."

The past few months of sitting in his class had been enjoyable and admittedly, her little crush had grown slightly. She knew this because they only rarely shared a conversation and that fact disappointed her. But she enjoyed the slight increase in eye contact he'd been giving her in his classes.

"My apologies, Miss Hughes." He smiled warmly.

She did like how polite he was. This formality never sounded patronising to her and secretly it was something she liked about him. He was a man of high standards without arrogance.

He didn't hide his perusal of her books. Finally the librarian came over and started signing out her hoard.

"Byron?" He lifted an eyebrow, using a finger to rotate the book around till it faced them.

"It was a book I found at the house Anna and I are staying in. I read a lot of novels- as in _a lot_ ," she tilted her head towards him, accentuating her point, "but I don't mind the odd bit of poetry."

He pursed his lips and gave her an understanding 'hm'.

"Byron specifically or...?"

"Anyone really. This was just what I found on the shelf."

He nodded slowly and licked his bottom lip. She quickly admonished herself for finding the action attractive.

"It seems like you have a lot of work, so I won't keep you. Have a good night Miss Hughes."

Though she was again disappointed, she appreciated the distance he maintained. She also enjoyed the little smile he gave her before turning to leave.

~ EC ~

 _1435  
_ _Thurs 4th June 2015_

Elsie grimaced and adjusted in her seat again, the pain in her lower back difficult to assuage. She flicked her wrist as her hand twanged with writer's cramp. The week had been intense and she still had two assignments to complete before tomorrow.

Finally catching up on her notes, she slumped back in her seat to listen to Mr Carson, hoping he'd not moved too far along. They were discussing the majestic nature of the large country houses, as far as she could tell. Her movement must have attracted his attention, his eyes briefly flicking towards her.

"...and these estates were cared for so keenly that they become almost living museums, which is an entirely romantic notion as far as the English aristocracy went back then, but it would be quite appropriate to quote _Lord Byron_ to summarise by saying..."

His eyes drifted around the room and finally locked onto hers as he spoke.

"... _'How pure, how dear their dwelling-place'_."

Her mouth popped open slightly as his eyes continued their casual perusal of the room, rattling on as if nothing were amiss. He didn't- did he?

He did.

She smiled widely, dipping her chin to hide her mirth as she shook her slightly in disbelief. The man just quoted Byron; their first inside joke. Secretly, she was immensely pleased to think that he'd said that quote with her in mind. In fact, she as simply delighted to think she was on his mind at all.

~ EC ~

 **Seriously cannot wait for the next chapter. Flirty joy :)**


	5. Airs and Graces

**I did a reshuffle on chapters because I wrote a scene that just killed the mood I wanted to set. It was a great scene but I'll use it later as a flashback. There are segments of poetry in here, but only tiny snippets. I hate it when people insert a whole song or poem and expect me to read the damn thing. Hence, only tiny, carefully chosen tidbits. You'll see. Humble thanks to the kind and beautiful people who leave reviews. I do doubt myself a lot and rewrite stuff because it doesn't feel good enough. But we're here to have fun! Enjoy!**

~ 5 ~

The increasingly late hours of the night found Elsie bent over two books and her iPad. The library still had a few students scattered at different desks but tucked in the corner, Elsie felt quite alone. She heard footsteps approaching and looked up when she finished the sentence she was writing.

She was delighted, and quite confused to be seeing Mr Carson. He had obviously been home since his last class; his usual vest and suit jacket exchanged for soft, grey fleece. She looked up at him and then to the thick blue book her gently placed on the desk and pushed towards her with the tips of his fingers. White pieces of paper bookmarked the heavy novel.

"What's this?" She asked quietly, not wanting to draw attention to the two of them.

Lifting the book and turning it over, her breath shortened when she realised it was a 'Library of World Poetry' by William Cullen Bryant.

"I thought you'd like to take a look. Perhaps expand beyond Byron, as good as he is, there are plenty more out there."

She was speechless for a moment. The simple fact that he'd made the effort to not only find but deliver the book felt overwhelming. It would be so easy to read into it, but surely he was simply being kind.

"Thank you, Mr Carson. I appreciate this."

He bristled a little at this. She suspected that it was her gratitude that made him uncomfortable.

"Yes... Well. I hope it's of use to you. Good night."

"Um," she began, hesitating to ask a question that had been niggling for a while. Mr Carson stopped and turned back, lifting his chin regally. "You've... You've got your PhD in history, don't you Mr. Carson?"

He frowned and tilted his head slightly at her inquiry. He looked to the floor again,

"I started studying for a Master's Degree, but a doctorate would let me teach."

"Then why don't you let people call you by 'Doctor'? Surely you've earned the right to be addressed that way?"

She would love to tell him that the way he cast his eyes down while standing so tall and proud, thoughtfully licking his lip, was a bit adorable.

"I think it's a bit foolish to be putting on airs and graces; one thesis may make a doctorate, but I don't feel like I'm entitled to that title quite yet, Miss Hughes." She was mesmerised by the charming smile he gave her. "Besides, it makes me feel rather old."

She smiled softly back at him, "That's very modest of you."

He nodded a little shyly and cleared his throat.

"I'll see you on Monday, Miss Hughes."

"You can call me Elsie, you know."

"Yes. Yes, I know," he nodded, smiling gently. "But when we are here, you are Miss Hughes. Perhaps, when we have occasion to see one another outside campus, I may call you Elsie?"

She suddenly felt shy but tried to nod confidently. "I would like that."

His quick retreat gave her a lot to think about. He'd made an effort for her with the book, but it would be dangerous to think it made her slightly special to him or anything. The gesture was entirely harmless, but he shouldn't be showing any favour to students. The invitation to call her by her given name, when-not if- they met out of school gave her stomach a reason to clench anxiously.

That night Elsie curled up in bed, her knees drawn up and the book in her lap. She couldn't read it page for page but concentrated on the bookmarked pages. She was treated to passages that spoke about peace and war, nature and tragedy. He'd bookmarked a few lengthier passages about disappointment and estrangement. There was one bookmark in the section that spoke of love. She read the whole page.

Another thing she couldn't apply too much thought. Cast her eyes up to Robert Herrick's 'Sweet, Be Not Proud',

 _'Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes,_  
 _Which starlight sparkle in their skies...'_  
 _'All hearts your captives, yours yet free._  
 _Be you not proud of that rich hair.'_

Oh, how she would love to touch Mr Carson's rich black hair. That little curl that bounced on his forehead.

Stop it, Elsie.

She shook off her silly thoughts and moved across the page to another poem,

 _'Whoe'er she be,_  
 _That not impossible She_  
 _That shall command my heart and me;'_

Lifting her eyes to the title she snapped the book closed with a huff.

'Wishes for the Supposed Mistress' by Richard Crashaw.

This would never do. Nothing could happen. It was pointless letting herself be drawn in. And she knew she was being drawn to him, whether he was enticing her deliberately or not. With a frustrated growl she rolled over and pressed her face into her pillow. She was glad Mr Carson kept his distance because she had little doubt that she'd gladly take any encouragement he gave her.

~ EC ~

 **Having issues with next chapters content. Either bash these two together and let them make out or find hot ways to let sexual tension build. I prefer the latter.**


	6. Beautiful

**Guyahs! You beautiful babes are so kind to leave reviews and hell, just read my little story. To my guest reviewer (To whom I can't reply!), there are 'rules' about student/teacher relationships. I don't wanna say too much, but I was very surprised when I did my research. It's not illegal, let's put it that way. So this was rewritten twice and isn't the scene I wanted to post, but it is in the direction I want to go. Italics don't seem to be working for me, so flashback is between the asterisks. Also keep note of the time. Elsie has been in uni for seven months. Also, I don't share Elsie's brief expression about Taylor Swift. You'll see. I thought it was funny. Please; Enjoy!**

 **~ 6 ~**

Wednesday 2nd Sept, 2015  
0631

Elsie leaned on the counter of the desolate cafe while she casually scrolled through her Facebook feed, patiently waiting for Beryl as she bustled around. She knew she was early and students didn't start drifting in till after seven, but Beryl recently started letting her in before open.

Her first impression of the red-headed woman was not initially favourable. Beryl Patmore was a stocky woman of thirty-one who took very little nonsense from anyone; she could be brash and blunt to the girls in her charge, but Elsie had seen for herself that the cook slash barista had a soft side.

She had been very confused when she came in one morning to find a wee dark-haired girl on the floor behind the counter with a colouring book in her lap.

 _Elsie frowned at the odd scratching noise coming from behind the counter. Leaning over the top, she tilted her head at a very small girl sitting cross-legged on the floor, a red crayon in one hand and an apple muffin in the other._

 _"Hello?" Elsie asked kindly._

 _The girl looked up, her big doe eyes blinking rapidly. Gosh, she must have only been perhaps four or five years old. Then again, she did have a Dora the Explorer backpack so she may be in school._

 _"Hello," she whispered sweetly._

 _"What's your name?" Elsie whispered too._

 _"Daisy."_

 _"That's a very pretty name." Elsie smiled softly. Daisy grinned and returned to her colouring. Elsie has still bent over the counter, hanging on the edge when Beryl bustled in, a rag in her hands._

Beryl hadn't offered much of an explanation to Elsie's questioning eyebrow, but had revealed that Daisy was not her daughter. Elsie had merely nodded and tried to be as non-judgmental as possible. Her early commute to the cafe occasionally afforded her the company of the little girl. It was in these moments that Elsie learned that Daisy Robinson, as the girl herself had admitted, 'many brothers and sisters'. Daisy never made mention of the way her parents treated her, but from what Elsie could deduce, she got very little attention and encouragement at home.

Beryl flicked on the radio, which caught the last few notes of Lunchmoney Lewis' 'Bills'. The familiar jingle of the cafe doors pulled her attention away from Facebook. The small girl occupying her thoughts toddled in, her backpack bouncing with her tiny stomps. She was such a sweetie, one day it'd be nice to have a wee one like that.

Daisy waved her little fingers at Elsie as she ran past and disappeared behind the counter. Elsie smiled at her with a great deal of fondness, waving back.

"Your usual Elsie?" Beryl asked, puffing her breath up at her frizzy ginger fringe, drying her hands on her apron. She glanced down and sidestepped where Daisy must have been sitting. It was true: Elsie frequented the cafe enough times in the last eight months that Beryl now knew her favourite coffee in the morning.

"Please."

Above her the radio continued to blare out new songs, now introducing Taylor Swift's latest 'Wildest dreams'. Elsie unlocked her phone and began flicking through her photos when the cafe door jingled again, though she didn't bother to turn around. It wouldn't only be a few seconds before she knew who had joined her.

It was his cologne she recognised first.

Her thumbs paused over her screen and she took a moment to school her features. His presence made her stomach tighten anxiously now more often these days. She felt the beginnings of... something. She'd yet to find an occasion to call him by his given name, having not yet spoken to him outside the classroom. Until now.

She took a calming breath and turned, her lower back pressed up against the counter.

"Morning Charles," she smiled warmly. His name felt foreign on her tongue but she was glad she had said it. He beamed back at her with a glint of amusement in his dark orbs; he clearly enjoyed hearing her say his name. The radio continued to play above them.

 _'...He's so tall and handsome as Hell..."_

Elsie blushed instantly and lowered her gaze.

Screw you, Taylor Swift!

She didn't see the look of pleasure immediately wash over him, nor the little chuckle that didn't manage to pass his lips. Neither of them paid much mind to Beryl, who lifted an eyebrow at the exchange she'd just witnessed. Though she was curious, she had to leave the pair and head out the bag for a new bag of coffee beans.

"Good morning. What are you up to this morning?" Charles asked, still beaming. Elsie nervously bit her lip and looked up, praying he wouldn't notice her suddenly rosy cheeks. Oh, but he was terribly handsome. Stop it, Elsie!

"Um, not much..." Oh, real smooth. Unsure of what else to say that wasn't related to school or their classes, he looked down at her phone again, which was still open to photos of the Farm in Argyll. It was only when she slowed down and managed to think of Scotland that she truly missed it.

"Is that home?"he asked tipping his chin up at her phone. She bit her lip before looking up at him. She noticed the way his eyes dropped to them, but only for a moment. Oh, to know what this man was thinking,

"Erm..."she blinked at her phone a few times. "Yes. Would you like to see?"

He only gave her an affirmative 'mm' and moved closer, leaning a hand on the counter-top at her side. His stomach brushed her shoulder, breaking her concentration violently. He was so close. Closer than he'd ever let himself get before. They were lucky that no one else was about. But then, perhaps that was why he was allowing the familiarity between them.

She swiped through some photos of home, offering a few explanations here and there. The occasional selfie of her on one of the horses or driving the old truck. She stopped on a photo she'd taken from the top of one of their sheds, looking out over the expanse of the farm.

"You were very lucky to come from a place so..." she shivered as his breath reached the soft skin of her neck; she heard the catch in his voice. Still, it took her a moment to gather the courage to look up at him. He didn't pull back and licked his bottom lip. Oh God...

"...Beautiful. Elsie..."

Oh good God...

She couldn't speak. The words, whatever they were, caught in her throat. She felt her cheeks colour again and looked down. Beryl had returned, sliding two paper cups across the counter, then quickly moved away to observe from a distance. Elsie absently swiped, a distraction as she tried to clear her thoughts enough to speak. Had he just called her beautiful? No, surely not. Why did he say that? She was positively abuzz with his presence and he was yet to move away. Maybe she should put some distance between them. Maybe she could-

"Who's that?" He asked, causing her to jump.

"What?" She asked rather dumbly, looking up at him then back to her phone. She recognised the photo instantly; the two of them sitting on a fence, her arm draped over her baby sister. The last photo she took of them.

Becky.

She immediately locked the screen and slid her phone into her pocket. Elsie grimaced, unsure whether to tell him. But she had no reason to lie.

"My sister."

"She's still at home?"

"Not anymore."

Charles stood taller, reaching out to take his cup and drop a fiver on the counter. He was about to ask about Elsie's sibling, but she had grabbed her coffee and was briskly walking to the door. He chose not to call out to her. Clearly the subject of her sister was a sensitive one and he easily decided not to push. Instead he sighed resignedly through his nose and turned to Beryl, who merely stared at him with a questioning eyebrow.

"What was that about, Mr Carson?"

He bristled, knowing she would have an opinion on what she had seen. Or _thought_ she'd seen.

"Nothing. She's just a student, Beryl."

Beryl only puckered her lips slightly, humming a 'hmm' that Charles didn't hear.

Elsie was a sweet girl and Beryl knew the rules. She only hoped Charles wouldn't do anything he, or Elsie, might regret. Trying to understand Charles' connection to the his younger student made Beryl want to know more about the younger Scot.

~EC ~

It was just past seven the next evening when Charles pulled up at the traffic light while it was still yellow on his Triumph Bonneville, dropping a foot to the ground. He couldn't get out of his weekly staff meeting as fast as he would have liked, but he was still making good time. The sun was setting just on the horizon, encouraging him to lift the visor on his helmet. The light turned red and he huffed impatiently, turning to look to the sidewalk. He narrowed his eyes, taking in the familiar figure stepping onto the road to cross.

Miss Hughes. _Elsie_.

She took no notice of him as she began to cross, trying to put a set of earphones in her ears. He smiled as she fumbled with her phone.

Rather impulsively, he gripped the handle and revved the accelerator, his motor roaring between his long legs. He got the desired effect. Elsie started and looked up at him with a scowl that quickly became confusion; he lifted two fingers off the throttle in a subtle wave. By the look on her face, she was trying to work out who he was. He revved the bike again and swiped a hand down over his visor to cover his eyes.

As the light turned green, he grinned at her as she kept looking back at him when he rode away. He would engage in the increasingly frequent argument with himself later about whether he should be entertaining his attraction - he admitted that, yes, he was attracted - to her. He'd probably regret his actions but right now he simply could not.

~EC~

 **Okay, Ball is rolling a bit faster but I will happily adhere to the 'slow burn but not too slow request'.**


	7. Thomas

**Okay, I'll not deny it. I'm am really terrible at replying to reviews. like, REEAAALLLLY bad. That's not to say they don't mean a lot to me. They do. You guys are my babes. But, for my Guest reviewer, I normally agree with the whole attention seeking revving of the motorbike. But he did it once to grab her attention. And it's Charlie. On a Triumph. I'd forgive him for running me over repeatedly. This story is slow, yes, but there is so much story to tell. Like, HEAPS! ChelsieSouloftheAbbey knows what these two are gonna do. She approves. Trust her judgement. Enjoy!**

~ EC ~

Elsie pushed her sunglasses back up her nose with a subtly polished finger, huffing quietly as she continued to read her textbook out in the courtyard of the campus. The sun was deliciously warm and the breeze gently cool on her skin where she sat on the concrete edging of a garden bed. The music blaring in her ears drowned out the movements of her chatting peers and occasionally, when a particularly good song graced her playlist, she'd bop her head gently and mouth the lyrics. Her hair would fall across her forehead and though she'd repeatedly tuck it back behind her ear, she never changed the song to anything less rhythmic.

It was when she sat, her head slightly bobbing that she jumped at the canvas bag that had be thrown down beside her. One of her earphones fell out and a little squeak escaped her.

It took a moment to recognise the boy that coughed and sat down beside her.

She didn't move, but stared at Thomas Barrow as shook his head and sniffed loudly. He looked a little terrible with his slightly red eyes and pale complexion. His black hair looked quite greasy as it stuck to his forehead.

"Hello." She greeted him politely as she pulled her other earphone free, though she was rather confused as to why he'd decided to sit there.

He sighed, laced his fingers lazily in his lap and rolled his head towards her.

"Hi," Thomas coughed, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Elsie decided to forgo asking what brought him here for the moment.

"Are you alright?"

He coughed again. "Got a bit of a cold."

She could only steeple her eyebrows in sympathy and lean away slightly. "Can I help you?"

He was struggling with the zipper of his jacket, but did turn to look at her for a moment, "Just wanted a bit of company for a moment. That alright by you?"

How rude. Her disapproval must have shown because he once he'd successfully done up his jacket, he looked at her again and had the decency to look sheepish.

"Sorry. I just remembered you."

"You're in my history class."

"And we have an Economics module together too," he nodded, yawning. Elsie frowned at him; she'd never seen him in that class. Thomas noticed and smiled at her- well, it was more of a smirk. He had slight smarminess to him, but when he spoke, she couldn't see anything malicious in his eyes. "I don't go it though- No, wait. I did go to the first class."

Elsie mouthed an 'ah' of understanding. Why on Earth is he talking to me? He cleared his throat and dug through his bag, eventually pulling out a bottle of water which he undid and swallowed greedily.

"So..." she began awkwardly, having forgiven his prior brashness. "I'm Elsie."

Thomas stopped his drinking and put the lid down in the space between them before holding out his hand. She wasn't entirely keen on shaking it, but chose to do so anyway as a sign of peace.

"Thomas."

"I know. I remember you from that argument you had with Mr Carson." She tried inconspicuously to wipe her hand. "That was interesting." Beside her the younger man chuckled and sighed again.

"Yeah. That was a bit ambitious."

"Don't like him?"

"I would say I _dislike_ him. He's a good teacher and all, but... I dunno. He's alright I suppose." He shrugged, tapping his feet on the ground. He scanned the courtyard before them and then unexpectedly chuckled. "Speaking of the old codger," he muttered, dipping his chin at something in his sights.

Elsie frowned slightly and assuming he was referring to Charles, turned and search the bustling crowd for his distinctly lanky figure. She quickly found him standing by a lean but very charming looking woman. Her stomach clenched tightly when she saw not only the warm smile he gave the black-haired lady, but that there was a very young girl holding his hand.

He was obviously engaged in a rather cheery conversation, she deduced by his comfortable stance. He'd not yet stopped smiling at the elegant woman, with her tastefully permed hair and her chic dress. He obliged the little girl who had now taken both of his hands and was trying stand on his feet, with a very affectionate grin.

"Must be his missus," Thomas guessed, also watching the exchange. "I guess that'd be his kid too."

Elsie wasn't sure what to think. She'd heard on the grapevine several months ago that Charles- Mr. Carson, was not married and she'd been led to believe he was single. Perhaps it was a former girlfriend or, she dreaded to think, she'd been wrong in her beliefs.

"I don't know," she offered Thomas quietly, who had seemingly lost interest in their history lecturer. He had pulled out his Smartphone as he rose.

"I'll see you in class, Elsie. You should sit next to me instead of at the back by yourself." He offered politely when he looked up from the screen. Elsie only smiled and nodded before Thomas returned his attention to his phone, gave her a casual half-wave and left her.

Now alone, Elsie frowned deeply and bit her lip and let herself continue to watch Mr. Carson. Despite her determination to control her feelings- she now admitted to having them - for the older teacher, she was determinedly dissecting his body language. How close he stood to the woman; the way he touched her arm before she left him with the girl; how he tolerated said girl's behaviour while he bent down to talk to her.

She was quickly frustrated when her phone vibrated in her lap. Perhaps a little too roughly, she pulled her phone out and unlocked the screen. A text message from Anna.

 _'Not going to be in for tea.  
John asked me out :-D'_

Elsie only sighed. Well, she knew that was inevitable; Anna had been spending a lot of time out lately and talking more and more about the former Army Corporal turned bartender that had won her affections. In all honesty, Elsie didn't really mind; she just wanted Anna to be treated well. Thinking before she typed, she quickly tapped in,

 _'That's fine. Have fun. Don't stay out too late.'_

The reply was almost instantaneous. Too quick for Elsie to look up and see Charles approaching her.

 _'Yes Muuuuum LOL'_

Elsie grinned at her phone and was about to check her Tumblr blog, but was instantly distracted by a set of pressed black slacks and a pair of dark, curious eyes peeking out from behind one leg. She looked up, craning her neck actually, to lock her gaze with Charles'. She gulped obviously and pushed her sunglasses up, nesting them above her fringe.

"Hello," she greeted him awkwardly, though by his grin, he took little notice. "How are you, Mr Carson?"

"Ah, quite well, thank you. You?"

Elsie only nodded, biting the inside of her bottom lip. Beside him, the young girl kept moving around behind Charles. Up close, Elsie could take in her carefully brushed hair and her little frown. She was perhaps nine or ten.

"I'm sorry." Charles started, looking down beside him. "This is Mary Crawley." He addressed the girl, "Mary this is Miss Hughes. She's a friend."

Her attention was initially lost to the his classification of her as a friend, but Elsie snapped her attention up to him. "As in Robert Crawley? The chairman of the board?"

"His daughter. Well, his eldest; he has one other. But I'm looking after Mary for an hour or so while her mother attends an appointment," he was subtly trying to pull Mary more to his side, though she was putting up a more obvious fight. So he _must_ have been talking to Mary's mother. Or at least, that was what Elsie would prefer to be the case.

Elsie finally stood, unwillingly to continue to look up so far to simply converse with him. "So that lady wasn't..." She let the question drift off, instantly regretting it slip from her tongue and hoping he wouldn't answer it. Charles frowned for a brief moment before he understood and grinned in amusement.

"Um, no," He chuckled, thrusting a hand into his pocket. "Cora is a dear friend, but no. I'm unfortunately rather single."

 _'I wouldn't call it unfortunate_ ,' Elsie thought, her eyebrows lifting. She left Charles' scrutinising stare on her and wondered, _hoped_ , he was doing so to gauge her reaction to this delightful revelation. It may have been improper, but she wanted him to see that this information pleased her. Would it be too forward to say, or even indicate, that it did?

She could only summon enough bravery to give him a tiny, but coy, smirk. Her stomach flipped at the way his eyes briefly dropped to her lips then back up to her. _Again_. It was the second time she'd caught him doing this. He wasn't necessarily smiling, but he was giving her a look of... she wasn't sure. His gaze was unusually intense. She felt like a dear to his wolfish glare. It sent a sharp tingle up her spine.

"Do you have a class soon, Elsie?"

 _Oh, so it's Elsie now?_

"Not til this afternoon. I have a few hours to kill."

Charles shifted from one foot to the other and looked down at Mary, who was still regarding her with an oddly disapproving frown.

"I was thinking of taking Mary for the park down the road. Perhaps you would like to join us? It'll only be for half an hour or so..."

A stiff breeze could have knocked Elsie down in that moment. What was the meaning of this? He wanted to walk down the street with her? Outside the campus? It was a bona fide offer of his company and she'd be admonishing herself for weeks about wishing for such things. She took too long to think of an answer and by the time Mary piped up from her place beside Charles, Elsie still hadn't formulated a response.

"I don't want to go to the Park!" Mary frowned deeply, almost glaring at Elsie. She'd never felt so obviously criticised. And by a child no less!

Charles seemed at a loss for words, though Elsie could easily read disappointment in his distinct features and that gave her courage. He wanted to spend time with _her_. Maybe his intentions were friendly rather than romantic, but she'd take whatever this man would give her. Her stomach turned and she opened her mouth to speak, but the words were lost in a little breathless gasp when he looked back to her. Taking a breath, she tried again.

"Maybe not today, but perhaps I could bring you your coffee to class one day." The light in his eyes strengthened her resolve. "I'd like it if you could tell me more about some of country houses. You know, Chatsworth, Lyme, Hardwick Hall..."

The corner of his lip twitched with a smile. Her company gave him pleasure. She took a sharp intake of breath as scene of more intimate company flashed before her mind's eye.

"Whatever you would like, Elsie."

 _Oh, Charles, If only I could take you up on that offer._

 _~ EC ~_

 **Okay, now to go write smut. Oh it's not gonna be that quick but I'll probably write some eye-sex, (in)appropriate touching and 'accidental' brushes of body parts for next chapter. Just cos I need to maintain my Christmas Special high. Love you chickadees :-***


	8. Jealousy

**A/Note: G'day beautiful! Yeah you. I'm on a military base teaching a promotion course for two weeks so I'm lucky to have churned this out. Not as much eye sex as desired, but there is a modicum of touching involved. More about Becky, Joe, Thomas and Charlie being a bit of an ass. I've been away writing a future chapter that involves... let's call it special content that requires a lot of thoughtful planning and a M rating. It's very detailed and I'm terrified I'll get it wrong. But anyway, Enjoy!**

 _~ EC ~  
_

The shrill of the alarm clock on her phone pierced the frosty silence of Elsie's bedroom, shocking its sole occupant awake and causing her to lose her pillow off the side of the bed. She groaned in pain, clutching her head with a congested sniff. A nasty head cold to supplement a particularly painful time of the month.

"Oh..." Elsie couldn't bother reaching down for her pillow, but did go so far as to reach a hand to her bedside table and blindly tap around until she found the damn contraption. She spitefully swiped the alarm off and growled when she had a message waiting for her.

Now more awake, she frowned deeply and tapped the chathead.

 _Joe:_

 _'We should catch up for your birthday.'_

"Ugh... Piss off..."

Elsie slapped the phone face down on the mattress and rolled onto her back. Why couldn't he take a hint? She didn't have it in her to bluntly tell her ex boyfriend to F off, but she was getting closer to doing just that.

Joe had been... nice, but he moved very quickly and was never going to leave Argyll. Of course, while she had Becky to care for, the idea of staying at home wasn't so bad. She had been fond of him before she gave in a decided to have a crack at relationship; it was true. But in hindsight, her fondness didn't evolve into romantic love which was probably why she never really wanted to sleep with him. Perhaps she _could_ have been content with him, but he tried to command a lot more of her attention and time than she could spare.

She remembered very clearly an argument they'd had only a few weeks into their relationship.

 _"Joe, look, you know I'd go with you, but I just can't leave Becky alone for that long." She clenched a fistful of hair at the back of her head in frustration. Joe rolled his eyes and slumped back against the car door._

 _"Can't you get someone else to watch her?" He grumbled and she knew by his tone that he was tired of hearing the same excuse._

 _"Not on a Friday night. It's enough to get a nurse in while I work..."_

 _Her father's abrupt departure was not something they talked about. Elsie knew her Da had a few debts around town and never adjusted to caring for his daughters after his wife's death two years prior. Elsie truly didn't know where he'd gone, though she sometimes suspected that Joe didn't believe that. In a way, it was easier without her Da; as his drinking got worse, she felt like she was caring for two. Now she just had Becky._

 _"...Maybe we could stay in and watch a movie?" She offered as a compromise. Truthfully, she would have been just as happy to not see Joe. He was her boyfriend and she probably didn't make enough time for him, but this never upset her. Shouldn't that say something?_

 _"Maybe I could stay over after?" Joe asked and she noticed the hopeful lift in his voice. They'd been together for almost two months and though she was still a virgin at twenty one, she had no overpowering desire to crawl into bed with him. All of his advances had caused her to clam up; made her push him back. She really should tell him._

 _Her hesitation only frustrated him again._

 _"You know Elsie, sometimes I reckon you use Becky as an excuse. We only spend time together when it's convenient for you." Elsie's temper instantly flared. Oh yes, she cared about Joe. Perhaps not as much as he wished she would. Regardless, she loved her sister far more._

 _"I'm sorry my sister is disabled," she seethed, her cheeks flushing, "I'll just let her have free reign of the house and go out with you-"_

 _"Oh come on Els-"_

 _"You know what can happen! You helped me clean up all the glass the last time we- I left her alone!" Elsie snapped angrily._

 _She and Joe had only gone for a walk for half an hour down the paddock while Becky was having a nap one afternoon, but returned to find the poor girl crying in a corner and the house a mess. A recliner was turned onto its back and the coffee table had been flipped. DVD's and CD's were scattered all the way out to the hall and Elsie had been momentarily dismayed to see her laptop sitting under a conspicuously shaped hole in the wall. Even worse, her sister had broken a pair of glass tumblers that Elsie and Joe had left on the coffee table and cut her hands and knees as she'd crawled across the floor._

 _Elsie had been quite thankful at the time to Joe, who'd help to clean up the living room while Elsie sat on the floor, rocking her sister to calm her down and assure her that no, she hadn't left her. Joe had even gone to his car and found a first aid kit, which he'd wordlessly given to Elsie._

 _However, despite the assistance he'd offered that day, there were many times afterwards in which he'd had barely any patience for the younger Hughes sister. Elsie needed someone who would always be patient._

Another two months and Elsie found the courage to break it off with Joe. He was upset about it and had tried repeatedly to reconcile with her. It was only three weeks after that that Becky had died. Oh, Joe had been kind and supportive, but he was far too quick to jump onto her newfound freedom and that didn't sit well with Elsie.

No, she didn't want to be with Joe and the more he tried, the more she resisted. She was now at the point where she was actively avoiding him.

Knowing that messenger would tell Joe that she'd seen his message, she picked up her phone and typed out the most succinct reply she could think of.

 _Elsie:_

 _'I'd rather not. Not coming home.'_

His instant reply only angered her further. She was _this_ close to blocking him. He wasn't even her friend on Facebook anymore!

 _Joe:_

 _'I was gonna come to you :)'_

"Seriously!" She snapped, prompting a sharp pain in her head. Damn this head cold. He was still in Scotland and she was happily settled in England!

 _Elsie:_

 _'No. Seriously, I don't want to see you.'_

When he saw her message and didn't reply, Elsie felt like she'd had her small victory for the day. Her satisfaction was quickly lost to the wave of dizziness that overcame her when she tried to sit up. She'd felt a scratching in her throat last night and her nose became blocked; obviously a good night sleep didn't help as she'd predicted.

Opening another chathead, Elsie slowly typed out a message to Thomas, who she had added as a friend on Facebook last week.

 _Elsie:_

 _'Thanks for the cold. Not coming in today. Can you get the lecture notes for me?'_

They didn't talk often out of school, but more so once she'd learned that he was gay. She felt a lot more comfortable around him after that; although he could be a little flirty, he was never really making a pass at her. It was during one of their late night conversations that he'd revealed that he'd come to talk to her initially to get away from a particularly nasty group of boys. They did sit together in class now and occasionally during breaks. She would do him that favour and he did offer kindness in return.

 _Thomas:_

 _'Say please'_

 _Elsie:_

 _'No :-P'_

 _Thomas:_

 _'Fine...'_

~ EC ~

"That will be all for today, thank you," Charles nodded and dismissed his class, quite satisfied with the lesson and partly enjoying the dismay of the students when he handed out yet another assignment.

 _And again no Elsie. She must not be well. 'If she still isn't in tomorrow I'll have to check up on her...'_ He mused while stacking his notes together. The class meandered out but for Thomas Barrow, who was weaving rather clumsily through the crowd moving against him. Charles barely noticed him until he was at his desk.

"Mr Carson?" Thomas asked in an unusually polite tone.

He wasn't a bad lad, but Charles had heard around the teacher's lounge that Thomas did not get along with many others. Although he was very chummy with Elsie lately. They were sitting together before she disappeared from class earlier in the week. The very notion caused an uncomfortable twinge within Charles. It was silly to be bothered with it.

"Yes, Mr Barrow?"

"Can I please have another copy of the assignment for Elsie? She's been sick this week."

So it was illness that kept her from his company. He leafed through his papers to find the cover sheet, but looked back to Thomas.

"I could email it to her?"

Thomas shook his head. "No, it's alright. I'm going to head over to hers and drop off my notes from class. I can explain it to her too."

The sting of jealousy was sharp. Very sharp. Of course, it's not like he's made any sort of declaration of his affection for her. Not yet. But weren't they getting more familiar? Hadn't he taken more of an interest in her? Did she not notice? Surely she had; Elsie wasn't so obtuse as to not see it.

Carefully, so his spite didn't come across to Thomas, he handed over the assignment. "That's very good of you Mr. Barrow."

The lad shrugged dismissively and without another word, turned and left.

Thomas was a difficult young man to figure out. He had a cruel streak in him it was true, but clearly he treated his few friends well. But was Elsie just his friend? Charles certainly hoped so. But what if she wasn't? What if Thomas had an interest in her? She was charming and quite beautiful. Any young man couldn't be faulted for looking her way twice.

But there wasn't much to be done about it. If Elsie took up with a man it was certainly no place of his to say anything. Then his feelings would truly be one sided; he was becoming quietly confident that perhaps the feelings he had for Elsie may have been mutual.

"Humph." He grumped and slammed his briefcase shut.

~ EC ~

His mood only festered as the week continued and the idea that Elsie had some sort of romantic attachment to Thomas grew noxiously in his mind until she returned to class; sitting up the back in her usual seat with the young man in question beside her, sniffling and occasionally muting a cough while she tried to take notes. He still harboured great affection for her, there was no denying that. Seeing her still clearly unwell was unsettling, which in itself, only made him curter with the class. She asked him a question and his answer was brief, rude even to his own ears.

He could tell by her frown that not only was she confused by his tone, but angered by it as well. When he'd dismissed the class, he didn't spare her a glance as he pushed past his students and left. He regretted it very much. Surely he could have spoken to her? Asked how she was; he desperately wanted to be assured that she was indeed recovering.

Not even Beryl's espresso cheesecake, which she delivered to his table, could lighten his sombre mood. She bustled away, promising to return, leaving him to watch the object of his irritation enter the cafe.

Elsie only looked at him once, but it only took a brief flash of hurt for him to cast his eyes down, shame and anger washing over him. He felt betrayed himself, which was a silly notion. She didn't owe him anything. She wasn't _his_.

She may have been resolute in ignoring him, but Charles couldn't keep his eyes from her. His heart ached a little as he watched Elsie squat down and talk to Daisy. He was very familiar with the tiny ward that Beryl cared for. It was a student free day and it didn't surprise Charles in the least the little girl had snuck out to see her favourite barista. Though it did surprise him how well the girl had taken to Elsie.

She looked like a mother. Daisy smiled and was speaking a million miles a minute, probably sprouting childish nonsense but Elsie happily listened. He couldn't help but feel warmed by the tenderness Elsie gave the sweet little girl. That warmth was quickly pushing away the anger he'd been brewing all morning and he was perfectly content to let it. He was blatantly staring at Elsie as she ordered her usual coffee from one of the casual girls. Ivy or Ethel or one of the young ones.

He didn't even notice Beryl until she pulled out the chair beside him.

"What's got your dander up?" She asked roughly, never one to sugar-coat anything but her pastries.

"Nothing," Charles muttered, stabbing his cheesecake with his fork. He wasn't fooling his friend, who had delighted in observing Charles and Elsie for the past few weeks.

"Really?" she wondered casually and then chose to try another tactic. "You just seemed a bit concerned..." She looked again to Elsie, who was making her way out the door, before speaking again. "...Not worried about Elsie are you? She's been laid up with the flu, but looks to be on the mend."

She waited for the bait to settle. Eventually Charles shook his head.

"No, it's more the company she's taken up."

"What company?"

"That Thomas Barrow boy." He grumbled, his fork loudly chinking on the plate.

Ah! She was familiar with that boy. Fortunately, working in the cafe offered all sorts of opportunities to listen to idle gossip and she'd heard plenty about that lad. But surely Mr. Carson wasn't- oh god, he wasn't jealous was he? She knew he had an interest in Elsie Hughes, for which she'd decided not to condemn him, but it wasn't so serious that he could possibly be jealous. And certainly not over Thomas Barrow! She bit her tongue and struggled to keep her features passive.

"I don't think you should be concerned about Thomas Barrow shacking up with her, Charles."

"I'm not-" he began until she tilted her head and gave him a look that told him not to treat her like an idiot. "I hope it's not that obvious," he whispered in a way of defeat, his shoulders slumping.

"We've known each other a long time, Charles. I won't judge you for it, don't you worry."

He sat quietly, sheepishly pushing his food over his plate. She didn't prod him, although she wanted to. Eventually she got the desired result when Charles asked,

"Why shouldn't I be concerned?"

Oh, Beryl lived for moments like these. She quietly placed her fork down, wiped her lips with a napkin and touched his arm on the table while smiling in a sweet but patronising way.

"Because he's _gay_."

The effect was immediate and so enlightening. Watching the realisation wash over his face, the way he rolled his eyes as if chastising himself and slapping his hands to his face. Oh he was fun to tease. And now to squeeze a bit more juice from this lemon.

"Although you should stake your claim before a young man really _does_ take an interest in her," she smiled cheekily. Charles sighed and shook his head, clearly befuddled by his own ignorance. He glared at her for her comment and rose from his seat.

"I don't know what you're talking about Beryl." He may have sounded sincere, but his hasty departure spoke volumes to the contrary. Oh yes, that man was finally getting over his Alice woes and was daring to bestow his devotion to another. Elsie was a worthy recipient in Beryl's opinion. She didn't mind the Scot now and particularly admired her kind ministrations to Daisy.

But Charles better get his act together or this one will get away too.

~ EC ~

 _1647h_

Elsie's thoughts hadn't strayed from Charles odd behaviour all day. What was the man on about! What had she done that had been so distasteful to him while she was away? Sick, no less! She'd done nothing except tried to follow the curriculum from home with the notes Thomas provided her. Wouldn't that be considered a _good_ thing?

The breeze threw her hair across her face, but she was too angry and distracted to care. She trudged off the campus and began home. She couldn't find the enthusiasm to work in the library and frankly, she didn't want to risk being exposed to more of Charles' disapproving stares.

She was too absorbed in her dark thoughts to hear the pounding of quick footsteps behind her until a hand touched her shoulder.

"Elsie."

 _Him! What does he want!_

She whisked around, pinning him with a glare of her own. Charles' eyes were sad, almost repentant in a way and although she knew that whatever had upset him was no longer an issue, it didn't do anything to sooth _her_ anger.

"What?" She asked, her manner sharp. He blustered a bit, now unsure of what to say.

"I was worried. You were gone for a while and now you're back but you're still not well-"

"What does it matter to _you_ if I'm ill or not?" She interrupted and was not gaining any satisfaction from the hurt that passed his features. She meant to leave him with her harsh words and began to turn away, but his hand on her elbow.

"Elsie, I treated you very poorly today and I'm sorry." His words were truthful; she could tell. They calmed her almost instantly. Not completely, but enough.

"You keep sending mixed signals Charles." She shook her head, trying to focus. "One minute we're speaking as friends, then you're ignoring me and now... What did I do that got so far up your nose?"

He ignored the vulgarity of her comment and chose his words carefully. "I know. I know. And I'm sorry! You didn't do anything wrong; I know that now. I just interpreted something incorrectly... Made a rather silly assumption about yourself and Mr. Barrow."

She frowned; now she was quite lost.

"Me and Thomas? I don't unders-" The realisation absolutely floored her.

 _He was jealous of Thomas._

Her mouth popped open slightly and she probably looked a bit like a fish, floundering for words. Charles, on the other hand, had never looked more uncertain. His bushy brows were steeped in worry.

"Would you let me try and make it up to you?"

"How?"

Charles licked his lips and looked to their feet, searching for an idea. He found one.

"Come back to the theatrette tonight. About a quarter past seven."

Her stomach lurched in anticipation, in fact she felt a bit dizzy.

"What are you going to do?" She asked quietly, biting her lip. Hard. She'd never felt so anxious with a man in her life.

"Hopefully make things better. If you are receptive to the idea?"

She could read between the lines. At least, Elsie hoped she could. It was Charles' turn to bite his lip and gaze at her with a question in his eyes. She nodded, hopefully in answer to the question she thought he was asking.

The winds whipped around them as they stood together, alone on the sidewalk of the quiet street. There was a part of her that wanted to touch him, to make all these feelings more tangible. He'd laid some of his cards on the table. Sure she could match his offer with something.

As if testing the waters, she reached up and touched a runaway curl sitting on his forehead. His eyes followed the movement but he never showed any sign of objection. Even in such a public setting, he allowed her to push the curl back.

His hair felt so soft; almost untouchable. She could barely feel it. But she couldn't remember anything so marvellous.

~ EC ~

 **Next time, Our love birds have a date :) happy days! I'm sure everyone can identify with an annoying Ex. What should Charles do for Elsie's birthday? So many possibilities. Many without clothes.**


	9. Curiosity and Satisfaction (fixed)

**I sincerely apologise for this chapter. Inappropriate touching and tension, Chelsie style. I'm a b*tch. I'll be following up very quickly. I've been stuck on an Air Force base for two weeks. I just made up Elsie's birthday, I couldn't find a date anywhere. Typos are mine, ChelsieSouloftheAbbey has suggested some betas for me. Next chapters.**

~ 9 ~

A cold change passed suddenly through St Giles in the afternoon, though Elsie decided not to change into warmer clothing and opted for her usual jeans and hoodie. It wasn't supposed to be quite that cold, but the breeze had a bite to it. No matter; she could wait a little longer. The street was terribly dark and the insect encrusted light outside the lecture hall offered very little illumination. She'd tried the handle, hoping Charles would be early, but found it locked.

She was nervous, she couldn't lie. There was no way to know what would be happening tonight and the inability to prepare tied her stomach in knots. Honestly, she didn't really think anything would happen- rather, Charles would never allow anything to happen and she'd never want to put him in that position that could cost him a job that he loved.

It was nice to indulge a little however. Personally, she would like to think they could be a good match and she had the patience to wait until she'd finished her study, but that wouldn't be fair to ask of him. And if she did ask, she'd be exposing her little crush.

"Ugh..." she shook her head forcefully and looked down at her feet as they scuffed the ground.

Footsteps in the distance quickly caught her attention and she was pleased- though she tried not to be too obvious - that it was Charles walking quickly towards her as he fiddled with his keys. Her eyes instantly were drawn to the motorcycle helmet hooked over his elbow. Having found the specific one, he finally looked up and gave her a half-smile.

A coy smile curled her lips. "I knew it was you on the bike that night I went walking!"

To his credit, Charles didn't give the game away. "Surely you're mistaken."

She almost believed his grave expression until he ducked his head and she saw him smile. It had softened by the time he looked up again.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come." He allowed his smile to grow again as he unlocked the door.

"Curiosity got the better of me."

He opened the door and awkwardly held it open without stepping through, waiting for her to precede him.

"You know curiosity killed the cat, Elsie," he was teasing her and it upset the butterflies in her stomach that she'd worked so hard to settle. Should she say? It would sound so flirty if she did...

"You know there's more to that expression?" She waited inside the door, still unsure as to what he had planned. He frowned and tilted his head, letting the door close.

"Actually I didn't. What's the rest?" he gestured for her to continue down the stairs the front of the theatre.

"As me later. But originally it was 'care will kill the cat'," She began down the stairs, careful not to leave him behind. When they reached the bottom, he quickly moved to his desk where his laptop was still set up from his class this afternoon. Elsie shifted from one foot to the other, beginning to feel awkward. Charles noticed and beckoned her to him with a waggle of his fingers.

She rounded his desk as he politely stepped back, frowning curiously at his laptop. A long list of video files filled his screen.

"If it's alright with you, I thought we could enjoy a movie?" He asked, his hands easily tucked behind his back.

"And you're sure this is allowed?"

"Strictly speaking, No. It's a little risky, but security does their rounds every three hours. Bill won't be back til nearly ten."

"Sounds rather _risqué_..." Elsie teased, to which Charles scoffed loudly.

"I would _never_ use such a word." Elsie laughed quietly at him; he needed to loosen up a little.

"So watching this on your laptop?" She asked looking over her shoulder.

He chuckled softly, "No. It's not a night out on the town but I can do better than a small screen." He withdrew a hand which clasped a remote. Charles raised it and clicked a button; the projector screen rolled down slowly from the roof. "Your own private movie theatre, as a token of apology for my behaviour."

Before Elsie could stop herself, she was grinning madly.

"Will you stay with me?" She asked a little too eagerly.

"I will."

Elsie returned her attention to the library of films. There were plenty of old movies- _Casablanca_ and _Gone with the wind_ catching her eye. She blushed when she saw _The Graduate_ in his collection. That would never do. It was an impressive collection to say the least. Almost four hundred titles. She quirked her eyebrow at _The Sound of Music_. No no. She had to choose the right one.

~ EC ~

Charles made his way up the stairs and sidled a row half way up until he was sitting squarely in front of the screen. She took her time but he wouldn't press her. Every now and then she'd look up at him and he'd catch a smile before she looked back at the screen. It took nearly ten minutes for her to choose but no matter. He'd wait all night.

"Ooh! I haven't seen this version!"

He wasn't sure which one she'd chosen but he'd sit through even the worst teen drama or, heaven forbid, tawdry soap opera for her. He owed her an apology certainly, but the opportunity to simply spend time with her like this was not to be missed.

Elsie started the movie and bounded up the stairs, walked sideways down the aisle and sat a seat away from him. Very appropriate. That chair in the middle kept things proper between them. But she was close enough. She was looking at him intently and without breaking eye contact, raised a foot and placed it on the backrest of the seat in front of her. He quirked an eyebrow at her, taking great pains not to smile.

His expression must have again proved convincing because her face quickly fell and she started to lift her foot. Oh no, best not to be the grouchy teacher. He laughed and threw both feet on the seat in front.

"Cheeky bugger," he heard her mutter.

"Ah..." he sighed happily as he leaned back and folded his laced his fingers over his middle. "So what have you picked? Something old by the looks." A few more opening credits and he knew exactly what she'd chosen.

"Pride and prejudice!" Why was he not surprised?

"But I haven't seen the Laurence Olivier version." She rebuked, holding up a pointed finger, "I love all the classics, but I do have a soft spot for Austen. I've seen the ninety-five BBC version with Colin Firth and the oh-five adaptation with Keira Knightley, but I haven't seen this one. "

Well, she certainly knows her Austen. His head tilted in acquiescence, the desire to question her choice gone.

"Well, you can add the nineteen forty version to your repertoire."

He enjoyed watching her smile smugly and wiggle deeply into her seat. Although he did follow the film, he was constantly distracted by every noise or movement Elsie made, though not in an unpleasant way. Of course she had a few things to say about the deviation of the plot from the novel, which opened up hushed conversation between them. Telling her that Greer Garson was actually a redhead left her silent for a few moments, frowning at the screen until she whispered a long and disbelieving 'No... Surely not.' It felt a bit naughty; hiding alone in a darkened theatre, whispering as if the very actors in the film would hear them. He would never admit to it, but once he pretended to not hear her so he could lean across the empty space between them, meeting her in the middle.

When the movie did finally finish two hours later, Charles deliberately stayed in his seat, unmoving as he watched Elsie prance contently down the stairs. Her hair bounced in the near darkness with each step and he'd be lying if he said he didn't find the very way she walked attractive. But it would cost him everything to say so. He sighed deeply; he didn't know what he wanted from her. Not really. What he did know was he was attracted to her, sometimes painfully so. He also knew that as her teacher, he had a responsibility for her. It was frustrating. In ways he was her superior; in others, she was his equal.

And he could hear Robert Crawley's voice in his head: ' _It's just not done_ '.

Flicking his wrist, he found it was nearly ten o'clock. Below, Elsie gently closed his laptop with her fingertips at the top of the screen. She started back up the stairs when he rose from his seat.

"I think I like that one. If it's no trouble, you have a few movies that I'd like a copy of." She waited for him in the aisle, sliding her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "And I think this makes up for our misunderstanding, don't you?"

"Well, I hope so. Of course you can have whichever movies you would like. It'll give us more to talk about," the last part he almost whispered, suddenly unsure if he should have offered. Her taste in film was similar to his by the sounds of it and he relished the very idea of sitting and discussing movies and books with her.

"Perhaps I should arrive a few minutes early to class then." She smiled shyly, which almost did Charles in.

She gave him very little room to move and Charles wasn't sure if this thrilled him or made him uncomfortable. His shoulder brushed a part of her- he didn't look back to find out- as he slid past her. She followed him down, staying up a few steps from the bottom while he coiled up the power supply to his computer, slipping the ensemble under one arm.

"Or we could make time outside of classes..." he offered, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, simply looking up at her. Slowly, she began descending towards him with a worryingly determined look in her eyes. "...Watch your step."

No sooner the words left his mouth than Elsie's foot missed the last step. She'd have fallen forwards if not for Charles bracing himself and wrapping an arm around her waist. If he had both hands free, he may have stopped her colliding with his chest; as it was, Elsie's hands had little purchase on the outer part of his chest and settled firmly around his biceps. Her startled cry was lost in his neck and Charles froze immediately.

Neither moved for what felt like eons. Charles felt the warmth of her body and her breath on his bare skin. The smell of whatever floral shampoo she used wafted up to his nose, tormenting him. To have her in his arms set his heart racing and his mind could barely form a coherent thought. Finally she moved, slowly, shakily, lifting her head beneath his chin to- _oh good god_ \- look up at him.

~ EC ~

Oh God. Oh god. OH GOD.

This was not supposed to happen. One moment she'd put on her best brave face, determined to ask exactly how much he wanted to spend time with her and before she knew it, she'd fallen into his arms.

He was so firm, so tall, so polite and handsome, so... Every good _damn_ thing in the world.

It was terrifying but Elsie managed to lift her head and look up into his dark, _so very dark_ eyes. She couldn't read his expression but she did see his eyes flick down to her lips which sent her insides into a spin. She couldn't think of anything beyond the desperate and urgent desire for him to kiss her.

Oh, yes. She wanted him and she'd _never_ deny it again.

Then she felt it. That one hand sitting low on her back. It didn't pull away; it clenched her shirt tightly, pulling her into his chest. She felt his breath on her face quicken and time slowed down. When his eyes fell on her lips again and didn't leave, Elsie couldn't resist the pull. Her head moved only an inch, but she lost the ability to breathe when his face moved closer. His nose touched hers, so close, this was it-

"Hello?"

The young male voice at the top of the stairs startled them both. The bounced apart and both glared menacingly at the kind man in the security uniform at the door. Although Charles continued to stare at the poor fellow, he calmed himself enough to greet him.

"Good evening Bill. It's just us."

The man had enough sense to realise he'd stumbled upon a private moment. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting. Just doing my rounds."

Elsie heard Charles mutter '...sadly', but replied more loudly, "It's fine. I'll lock up. Good night mister Mason."

The security guard wished them goodnight. The air quickly became awkward, which frustrated Elsie immensely. She was about to wish him a good night as well, but he spoke first.

"I think I remember you say your birthday was coming up soon?"

 _What in the world?_

"Um... Yes. November ninth?" she answered curiously. Surely they couldn't ignore what had almost just happened? They nearly kissed!

"I'd like to take you somewhere. Or... More I want to show you something. I know it's not right for a teacher and-"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"I'll go with you."

"But I haven't said where we're going..."

"Make it a surprise. I trust you."

It cost her nothing to say the words but it clearly stunned him. Or pleased him. By his weak, nearly soppy smile, she guessed the latter. They may not acknowledge their moment with words, but they shared a look that said neither regretted it. Before they left, Charles frowned and turned to Elsie.

"Curiosity killed the cat...?" he asked slowly,

Elsie giggled. Actually giggled.

"...But satisfaction brought it back."

Charles gulped loudly and hoped he'd done enough to bring her back to him.

~ EC ~

The next morning Elsie sat in class, like normal. Thomas sat beside her, also as per usual. But now looking down at her teacher, Elsie couldn't deny that she wanted him. In _that_ way. She no longer stopped herself from mentally undressing him as soon as he walked into the classroom. Oh, she was sensible enough to pay attention and take notes once Charles started talking.

Their latest assignments came around, these from several weeks ago on European socialism between 1881 and 1921. A few black scribbles corrected her work, asked for elaboration or questioned conjecture. She was pleased to receive a ninety-two percent passing grade. Making a show of looking at Thomas's opening page, she was quite disappointed to see a lot of red writing across his page-

Hang on.

Looking between hers and Thomas's, she realised that not only was the marking handwriting different, but there were no indents on the page from the pen; hers had been printed.

~ EC ~

 _Eight weeks prior  
2021h_

 _Charles grumbled as he threw his pen down and scrubbed his hands over his face. He was having trouble, once again, marking his latest collection of assignments. Well, the one in front of him in particular. Of course it was hers._

 _Elsie was as much on his mind now as when he'd first spoken to her. She didn't fill every conscious thought, but when she was near, he was very aware of her presence. He noticed her. Often he would get a glimpse of her in the courtyard or in Beryl's during the afternoon, her nose pressed into a book of some sort. It wasn't unusual to see her in class by the time he arrived or catch her in the library late at night. He could admit to admiring her dedication._

 _Sometimes at night, when he was home alone, his thoughts would drift and he'd imagine what it would be like to know her personally. He'd toy with the idea of allowing a friendship to form between them. Once or twice, his dreams during the night expressed a desire for more than simple friendship._

 _It was a problem. And in a way it wasn't. Strictly speaking a relationship with a student, at their ages, wasn't illegal, but it was frowned upon particularly by older educators. She was well over eighteen, in fact pleasantly close to his age. Charles wasn't deaf to the whispers. He knew that those kinds of relationships existed; he certainly even knew a small handful of professors who now enjoyed successful marriages with former students. Those professors had simply declared the relationship and deferred their marking responsibilities to deflect the perception of favouritism._

 _Could he? Perhaps he didn't have to pursue a relationship, but maybe they could allow their friendship to grow a little. He had to be certain about this; he would have to tread very carefully. She was a hard worker and she didn't need to be unfairly slapped with a reputation for sleeping her way through her degree. Worse still, she might be offended by his intentions._

 _He leaned back in his chair, lifting his pen and tapping it on the desk. Elsie Hughes._

 _Alright._

 _Leaning forwards, Charles pulled his iPhone from his back pocket and flicked through his contacts. Frowning at the wretched device, he swiped down until he found the number of an old colleague. He tapped the call button and let his head fall back heavily against the backrest of his chair._

 _"Good evening?" Joseph Molesley answered after many rings._

 _"Good evening, Mr. Molesley. Charles Carson; how are you old chap?"_

 _"Charles? It's been a while, but doing well. How are you? How do you find being back at Westburn?"_

 _"Mostly managing. I won't keep you long, but I have a favour to ask..."_

 _An hour later and Charles hung up the phone with an amused chuckle. He didn't mean to talk so long but Mr. Molesley could waffle on very easily. His old friend now taught history in London, but they'd sporadically kept contact over the past few years. Thankfully, Joseph had agreed to mark any assignments young Miss Hughes submitted. All Charles had to do was email hers and a few randomly selected students work to Joseph for moderation. Even if things didn't turn out as he hoped, it wouldn't hurt to have his marking cross-checked._

 _Switching off the light in his study, he padded down the hall for a shower, slipping his shirt over his head._

~ EC ~

 **Road trip beetches :D Our love bunny cruise on over to- oh shite, is that the time? Sorry lovelies, I'll be back soon. Night night! Love you all! MWAH!**


	10. It's not Proper

**A/Note: You people pushed Mr Bates out of this chapter. We are definitely meeting him next chapter. No road trip yet. Demands for lip action had to be met. A long chapter for my 'quick update' while I try and move house. I admit that it's 2am and the second half is unbetaed so I apologise if any mistakes were missed. I did look however. Enjoy. Please.**

~ EC ~

"Why don't you go upstairs and play with George, little lady?" Charles nudged Mary towards the staircase that led up to her room when he returned her to her parents on Saturday afternoon. Although the little girl threw a petulant glare over her shoulder at her dismissal, she nonetheless disappeared up the stairs, but it was unlikely she'd be looking for the baby doll. She was such a headstrong child who often did as she pleased, but she would still listen to him. For that, Charles was thankful.

Once she was gone, Charles began down the long hallway to the back of the house, where he was sure he'd find Cora in the living room. Alas, it was Robert and his stately mother he found sitting in their usual armchairs. Robert sat slumped against the backrest with a small glass of what Charles guessed would be brandy or whisky in one hand and his forehead in the other. Violet Crawley, on the other hand, sat primly on the edge of the seat, looking at Robert with a scowl.

"I hope I've not interrupted?" Charles apologised, holding back a smile. Without missing a beat, he stepped over to gently grasp Violet's outstretched hand in a polite handshake. "Good to see you, Mrs. Crawley."

"Oh, please do," Robert muttered before sipping more of his drink. Violet ignored her son's remark, but did purse her lips.

"How are you settling in at the school, Carson? It must be so much better to be among the familiar again."

Charles chuckled and nodded. Like her son, Mrs. Crawley always called him by his surname. It was a habit from their time together at Eton.

Charles had only come into the prestigious college on a King's Scholarship for the last three years of secondary school, thanks to his excellent grades and a lot of hard work on his grandparents' behalf. He never dared to ask, but knowing that his own father had worked for the late Mr. Crawley, Charles suspected that Violet or her husband had contributed financially. Regardless, his own friendship with Robert meant he'd been welcomed into the Crawley family with open, but appropriately reserved, arms.

He wasn't of the upper class like the Crawleys; Charles knew that. Oh, he may be highly educated and perfectly mannered, welcome as a brother would be in their home; he _worked_ for them now. Violet no longer chaired the board at Westburn, but still had valued opinion in the running of the university. Robert would ask Charles for advice once in awhile, and Charles tried to be model of professionalism. An institute's reputation was defined by those who ran it, after all.

Which was why he had to be so terribly careful in regards to Elsie.

"It's wonderful to be back. The staff made it a very easy transition from student to teacher."

"I would expect no less," Violet nodded in her slightly patronising way and patted his hand. They were interrupted by the unique cries of Robert's second daughter as she was carried into the living room by her mother. Her normally sweet face was red from crying and she angrily fisted her mother's shirt at the shoulder. Something must have upset the two-year-old girl terribly.

Cora's face lit up at the very sight of Charles, who rose and approached them.

"Hello Cora, you look well as always. How are you?" He kissed her cheek cordially, as he would a sister, then very carefully patted Edith's hair. "Now, now little one. That's enough from you." As if on cue, Edith's wails died down as the sound of his deep but soothing words. "That's better, isn't it?"

Edith sniffled and hiccupped, turning her face toward her mother's neck, leaving one eye to look at Charles.

"I'm very well Charles, I'm actually about nine weeks along!"

Although Charles was instantly elated, there was a private pang of sadness to accompany it.

"Another one? That is wonderful news," Charles grinned, looking around the room. Violet smiled and nodded, her pleasure carefully measured. Robert simply nodded, but his smile was a bit weary.

"Third time's a charm, hey Carson?" Robert closed his eyes, pressing the glass of only ice to his temple.

Charles turned back to Cora and opened his hands in a silent request to take the girl. Cora was quite happy to hand her over and wasn't in the least offended at the way Edith squeezed Charles' neck tightly with her tiny arms.

"Robert still wants a boy," she whispered, rubbing her daughter's back.

"Oh, what does it matter?" Charles whispered conspiratorially, shaking his head slightly.

The Crawley girls were a delight, although Charles was well aware that Mary could be trying. But still, he gladly spent time with them; he had to be careful, however, for there were occasions when Mary blatantly refused to cooperate with her parents but acquiesced to him. It didn't seem to bother Robert, but it unsettled Charles.

As much as he loved the girls, it only highlighted the fact that he was nearly thirty and had no immediate prospects of a family of his own. Now, with the growing possibility of having a woman in his life and his growing confidence with children, it did make him want his own brood a little more. It was overly optimistic, even dangerous, to think about a family with Elsie. Secretly, deep down, he'd thought about it late at night. Felt a desire for it. _Wanted it_.

There were still so many hurdles to overcome before then, the first being the people in this very room.

~ EC ~

"So when's this Army fellow of Anna's going to make an appearance?" Thomas puckered his lips and turned his head to the side, inspecting his hair in the mirror on her dresser. They were supposed to be doing an Economics assignment, but their concentration didn't last long; Elsie found a nail file under her bed as she lay on the floor and was lazily filing her right ring finger while Thomas experimented with his hair.

"Tomorrow. Around five, I think. They'll be going out tonight, but Anna really wants me to meet him. She won't shut up about him. He sounds nice, but I'll have to see for myself."

Thomas twisted in his seat, throwing her a gleeful look.

"You know what this means? Open the doors and get the booze flowing!" He grinned, bouncing his eyebrows.

"No! If you want to throw a party, you do it at your place."

To this Thomas sighed dramatically, rose from the chair and walked over to her bed, falling flat upon it.

"My friend is an old woman."

"Excuse me but I'm not that old, thank you."

"Oh really, you're how old? Twenty-five. That's _old_ , love."

"I'm not even twenty-four yet," Elsie held up a finger, correcting him. "And it keeps you out of trouble, too."

"Cause everyone thinks we're doing it." Of course he was alluding to the fact that since he'd started spending time with Elsie at school, he'd been harassed far less. It was a misconception that Elsie didn't feel the need to correct beyond her social circle; she still smiled when she thought of the fact that Charles had fallen for this.

Elsie took a deep breath. "Yes, well ..."

She was awfully thankful when her mobile phone started ringing from its place on the bed.

Unfortunately, Thomas beat her to it. He picked it up as it continued to ring.

"Who's Charles?" He smirked, lifting a curious eyebrow.

"OH MY GOD!" Elsie jumped instantly from the floor and threw herself at Thomas, who held it out of her reach. "Give it here!"

"Put him on speaker."

"No! God, no - give it here!"

"It's gonna ring out!" he waved the phone, which continued to ring. She'd never wanted to hit anyone before, but she would bitchslap Thomas if she had to.

"THOMAS!" She screamed and pinned him with a very serious glare. He rolled his eyes and handed her the phone.

She didn't have time to chastise him, sliding a finger across the screen to answer the call. Thomas, being the little prick he could be, leapt from the bed and planted himself against her bedroom door, effectively forcing her to take the call in front of him.

She and Charles had exchanged numbers after their movie night; a week later, and this was the first time he'd called her. On several nights she'd tried to write out a text message, but nothing sounded right and she always ended up tossing her phone aside in exasperation.

"Hello?" She tried to hide her panting breath and sound pleasant.

" _Hi, it's Charles ... Um, how are you? I hope this isn't a bad time ..._ "

"No, it's not a bad time ..." Elsie ran a hand through her hair, then pulled a strand and twisted it nervously. In front of her, Thomas imitated the action. She flipped her middle finger at him, which only amused him more. "Uh, I'm good, thanks."

" _That's good_ ," he chuckled and she could hear his nervousness. " _Now, about next Saturday? It's going to take an hour and a half to get there, and it's going to be cold so I think you should dress warmly_."

"Are we going to be outside a lot?"

" _A bit of both_."

"Now I'm really curious." Elsie frowned and looked up at Thomas who was looking at her strangely, as if making a detailed observation. She turned her back on him. "But I'll wait till then. Um, am I coming to you or are you going to pick me up?"

" _I would prefer to pick you up, but I don't know where you live_."

Elsie closed her eyes, quickly debating whether to tell him; that answer came quickly. "Down Wolsey way, across the road from the bus stop."

The phone was silent for a moment and Elsie swore she heard him shuffling his feet before he finally said, " _Elsie, I know it's not proper, but if you would like ..._ " She heard him take a breath and she waited. " _If you'd like to come over before then -_ "

"Yes" she interrupted. She grimaced tightly, chastising herself for sounding so eager and for being rude. "I'm sorry. Yes, I wouldn't mind."

Charles cleared his throat. " _Well_ _... whenever you have time_."

Elsie looked over her shoulder to find Thomas relaxing against the door. She narrowed her eyes mischievously at him, "I'm free tonight actually."

Although she'd said it to tease Thomas and make him feel like he was being ditched, it quickly dawned on her that she'd just locked herself in for an evening with Charles. _Tonight ... Shit_. Her eyes widened and even seeing Thomas putting his hands on his hips and looking thoroughly scandalised couldn't calm her nerves. She immediately drew her bottom lip between her teeth and turned away again to hide the blush that was surely tinting her cheeks.

" _If you'd like_."

"Um ..." Elsie closed her eyes tightly and scrunched her nose, trying to think. "Uh, where do you live?"

" _Corner of Addison Drive and Lamb Gardens_."

"I know where that is. I'll head over later. I'm meeting Anna's new man and Thomas and I are supposed to be finishing an assignment."

" _Of course. Yes. Do that first. Just send me a text_."

"Alright. Hopefully I'll see you later."

" _I hope so_."

She was pleased to hear him chuckle lightly and it allowed her to relax, too. She wished him a good afternoon and hung up. It was cowardly, but she stared at her phone for a moment just so she wouldn't have to look at Thomas.

"So ..." Thomas' silky voice penetrated the awkward silence. "Running off to see this lad, Charles. Everyone will think you're cheating on me."

"No, they won't."

"Is he your 'new man'?"

"No. He's not." She tried to glare at him, but Thomas pursed his lips and tilted his head, putting on what he himself called his 'gay face'.

"Elsie, you're blushing like a schoolgirl and I found all those sex vibes you were giving off damn suffocating. I felt myself straightening out over here."

Elsie's mouth dropped. _Sex vibes!?_ "Thomas! I- He's not, not ... you don't even -"

Thomas held up a hand, "Spare me love, now tell me who he is and I'll help you get yourself sorted tonight and you might just _get some_. I'll even forgive you for leaving me tonight when you promised to study with me." He smirked and winked.

Now Elsie was positively horrified. She shook her head, suddenly feeling solemn.

"I can't tell you. It's complicated."

Thomas tutted and rolled his eyes, quite unsatisfied with her answer.

"Elsie, unless he's a spy or something it can't be that damn complicated." He suddenly grabbed her shoulders. "He's not underage is he?"

"No!"

"Oh, thank goodness. Well unless he's a teach -" He stared at her with wide eyes. "It's not old Carson is it?! _His_ name is Charles!"

Elsie didn't reply quickly enough, quite shocked that he'd guessed so easily. Thomas released her and paced the room. "Elsie Hughes, hooking up with old Carson! I _cannot_ believe it!" He laughed loudly clapping his hands and pressing his hands to his chest. Elsie wanted to tell him to at least keep his voice down; Anna was downstairs and the walls were thin.

"Thomas, please, I need you to keep this to yourself. And no, I'm not 'hooking up' with him. I'll explain but please, _please,_ swear you won't say a word."

Again, Thomas rolled his eyes and, much to Elsie's surprise; he came over and briefly hugged her. He pulled back and held her shoulders.

"I may be right prick to most people, but you can count on me, honey. You've looked out for me and I'll return the favour." Elsie was instantly relieved but Thomas, of course, wasn't finished. "Now let's get you dressed and you can tell me all the _filthy_ details."

For the next hour Thomas offered her a lot of questionable advice about her choice of wardrobe while she gave him a condensed version of events. She chose to leave out a few details, namely the almost kiss in the theatrette. In fairness, Thomas did help her find a comfortable outfit that she thought sent the right signals. Warm, mature and pretty, without being overly inviting.

Thomas adjusted her scarf on the doorstep, preparing to leave himself. He finally gave her one long, appraising look up and down. Her skinny jeans and brown boots were warm as they stood in the cool evening air. She sought the familiarity of her favourite tee beneath her black windbreaker which was more fashionable than practical, but in this instance, she didn't mind.

"Well, I suppose you'll do." Thomas remarked, popping one hand on his hip and combing his fingers through his shining black locks. "Well love, far be it for me to keep you and deny you any nookie-"

"Oh my God," Elsie muttered, lowering her eyes and shaking her head. "Thomas, it's _really_ not like that."

"I know. And when you work out what you're doing, I hope you tell me. I'm probably going to be single forever, so I need to live vicariously through you." He smiled sadly and didn't make enough of an effort to hide it.

"You won't be," Elsie reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You just be a bit nicer and get a haircut. This long and slick look won't rake the boys in," she teased, flicking his hair. Thomas pulled his head back, a little annoyed but still smiling.

"Get along woman. Can't be too late for the old coot."

Thomas nudged her along the path and Elsie set off down the few blocks towards Charles' house; as she had promised, she sent him a text message to warn her that she was on her way. It didn't take her long at all to reach Addison Drive and she finally walked along the fence of his house. She wished she could have taken a moment to stop and get control of her nerves but her feet carried her straight to his front door.

~ EC ~

An hour later found Charles and Elsie sitting on the floor of his lounge room, old books and Vinyl records strewn around them and his typewriter in her lap. Nerves had nearly rendered her speechless when she'd first arrived and as she expected, Charles was quite flustered too. Fortunately, she was quickly drawn to the random antiques in his house and was very happy to let him educate her on the advantages of vinyl and the satisfaction of writing on a typewriter. They poured over the endless titles in his enormous collection of books that covered an entire wall in his dining room.

At present, Charles sat beside her and was happily regaling her with a story from his own time in university. Once, her phone had buzzed in her pocket and upon seeing another message from Joe, she dismissed it and shoved her phone in her pocket again. It vibrated again now and then but she absolutely refused to look at it.

"But honestly, I don't think I slept for nearly three days." He laughed heartily and it struck Elsie just how different Charles was when he was _really_ relaxed.

She really did like simply listening to him talk. It gave her the time to sit and look at him as he leaned back against his sofa, clad in his preferred jeans and a pale blue dress shirt she remembered seeing him wear in class. Now, however, there was no jacket or tie and the little patch of chest hair she could see was becoming increasingly distracting.

"Charles?"

"Hmm?" His eyebrows popped up in question, though he was still smiling happily.

"Was this what you wanted to show me?" She asked, lifting the typewriter in her lap slightly.

"What? Oh, no. No." He rose from the floor and held out a hand. "Come on, I'll show you. I'm sorry, I almost forgot."

Elsie looked from his hand to his face. He gazed down at her and all she could hear in her head was his voice assuring her that she could trust him. Elsie bit her lip, placed the typewriter on the floor and took his hand, letting Charles help her up.

"It's okay, I was enjoying myself and it only occurred to me just then." She took a deep breath, steadying herself when he continued to hold her hand loosely. She could have let go, but decided to hold on for as long as possible.

He smiled down at her, a cheerful sparkle in his eye. "Me too."

He led her to a door down the hallway and she worried it was his bedroom. Alas, it was his garage. As soon as she stepped through the door and spied the canvass outlining the distinct shape of a motorcycle, she knew for certain it was him all those weeks ago. Charles released her hand and moved around his car; her phone buzzed again.

Elsie growled very quietly, whipping her _damn_ phone out and looking at the notification on her lock screen:

 _Joe:  
'I know it's been a while but I really think we should meet...'_

She frowned deeply, shook her head and deliberately placed her phone on the small workbench beside the door they'd walked through. Determined to ignore her former boyfriend and give her attention to a man she hope would be her _future_ boyfriend, Elsie smiled at Charles.

"You know, I never would have guessed a history teacher would own a bike."

Charles slid the heavy canvass from the pristine Triumph Bonneville T100. The polished chrome had been well cared for and the paintwork was still perfectly scratch free. It was a very nice vehicle, not that Elsie knew much about motorcycles. Then again, there was something a _little_ attractive about a man on a bike.

"This is not just a machine to attract the attention of ladies down the streets," he smirked and they shared a knowing look. "This is history in itself. It's simple, economic and I'm very proud to own this particular model. Come around here," he beckoned her to his side and pointed to a brass plate at the base of the handles. "Look at the date?"

She leaned in closer, "two thousand and two?"

Charles folded up the canvass as he spoke.

"It's a centennial edition. But this model is actually quite rare. Only a few hundred were made before a fire completely destroyed the factory. By the time Triumph was able to continue making the rest of the centennial editions, they had to be plated as two thousand and three. I was very lucky to find this." Charles paused as he opened the back door of his car and pulled out a medium sized cardboard box, placing it on the bench beside her phone without offering any explanation. Yet.

"Would you like to come start it up?"

"Oh gosh," Elsie hesitated, suddenly terribly nervous. "I probably wouldn't reach the ground... and I haven't ridden in a long time. We had bikes on the farm, but I stopped riding a while ago."

Elsie stepped back when Charles unexpectedly swung a leg over and sat down on the bike. He placed one hand on the throttle and pressed his fist into his thigh.

"I'll help you." She must have still kept a face of hesitancy. Charles scooted back on the seat, giving her as much room as possible. "Best behaviour. I promise."

Still gnawing on her bottom lip, Elsie took a breath and came forwards. "I have no doubt about _that_ , Charles."

Charles only smiled; pleased that she was trusting him as he helped her settle on the seat in front of him. The bike wobbled a little, but Charles kept both feet on the ground. She watched him reach around her, obviously taking care not to touch her and turn the ignition, the bike roaring to life between her legs.

"Ah!" She screamed in excited surprise. Elsie didn't even think when one hand reached behind her and briefly gripped his thigh. He made no comment about it, but Charles did laugh at her reaction. Emboldened by her action, he took her right hand and placed it around the handle.

It was all slowly coming back to her; she pulled throttle and the bike bellowed loudly beneath her. The dirt bikes from her life on the farm paled in comparison to the power she now straddled and when she shifted in delight, she accidentally slid back on the seat, settling snugly between Charles' legs. That sobered Elsie up very quickly. The feel of his thighs cradling hers made her suddenly dizzy.

Charles noticed her silence and immediately killed the engine.

"Are you alright?" He asked, leaning to the side to try and see her face. The hand he placed on her hip sent her senses in a flurry. She couldn't speak; she could barely think, her attention completely bound to the feel of this warm legs and the firm hand at her waist. She looked over her shoulder, her eyebrows arched in worry.

"Elsie?"

Her eyes fell to his lips at the sound of her name. He reciprocated the gesture and all the air in the room seemed to disappear. Thankfully- maybe- the moment was quickly interrupted by her phone buzzing repeatedly, made louder by the thick silence and the wooden surface on which it sat.

Charles was the first to look away. Elsie closed her eyes and growled, quite loudly this time and jumped out from the circle of his arms. She stalked over to the bench, took one look at the caller ID and was infuriated to see that it was Joe again.

"Go away!" She muttered, but it came out quite loudly. Charles noticed and kicked the stand on his bike. Now concerned, he approached as Elsie impatiently turned her phone off.

"Something wrong?"

"What?" she whipped around, surprised to find him standing so close. "No not really." She cupped her hand to her cheek. "It's my ex. He keeps wanting to talk to me. I don't think he's getting the hint."

She wasn't sure if she'd made Charles uncomfortable; he merely fidgeted his fingers at his side. Surely the moment was completely lost now. And she was so close to kissing him. Again! Fate had a cruel sense of humour. She wanted to kiss him and she was certain he very much wanted to kiss her back. Oh and why did she have to mention her ex? Well that cat was out of the bag. Charles shifted from one foot to another, clearly unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry, Charles. It was rude of me to leave it on. You should know that I was only with him for a short time and we broke up well over a year ago. Almost two actually. He just... He isn't doesn't seem to understand that I moved on a long time ago. He keeps thinking that he has an infinite number of chances."

"Boys don't mature as fast, Elsie."

"But do I have to spell everything out? Can't I have a guy that listens when I say I've moved on and respects my wishes?"

"You deserve no less."

Elsie tried to smile but it never reached her eyes. "I think I know what I want and deserve, Charles." At this, he hung his head.

"What?" Elsie asked, sensing the tension rising in the room.

Charles sighed forlornly and licked his bottom lip, looking for the right words. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to _me_."

"And that's the point, Elsie..."

This had been brewing for weeks and although she was glad that they might now voice their mutual admiration, Elsie feared she'd leave his house and be a student again come Monday.

"Just say it Charles."

He seemed to have great difficulty but bumbled through. "Elsie...I... I like you. In a way I really shouldn't. I think you know that. But you're my student and it's not proper."

Well if this is how it ends, before it even starts, she was going to go out with a bang. Almost angered by his words, Elsie took a determined step forwards, grasped his shoulder in one hand to pull him down, planted the other on his chest and pressed her lips to his. He didn't move.

Elsie drew back and locked eyes with his rather stunned gaze.

"There. You won't get into trouble. _I will_. I threw myself at you." She'd never been more serious in her life.

"I kissed you back..." Charles closed his eyes, whispering so quietly.

"No you didn't-" But Elsie's words were lost when his lips came crashing down on hers. His large hands flew to her cheeks, cupping them as he kissed her fiercely. She could only grip his shirt as he pushed her the few steps back towards his car, pressing her firmly against it and devouring her lips like a man possessed.

She wasn't afraid however. She matched his hunger, grasping the back of his neck. All she knew was that everything would change. Nothing would be the same. If the wrong person found out, it could mean his job. Clearly, he didn't care about that right now.

~ EC ~

 **Have a crack at guessing where we're going on the road trip. All locations mentioned are real so you can google them and have a guess.**


	11. Chatsworth

**I've done a tidbit of research into this estate and since it's a real place with real people, I've changed their names; obvious I can't change the name of the place of course. Although I did have to tweak reality when it came to the owner of the place. You'll see and I'll explain at the end of this two parter. I am sorry for the delay. A combination of writers block, moving house and a few other difficulties in life kept me away. I haven't even caught up on ChelsieSoulOfTheAbbey's 'After The Fall', which is literally distressing me. 21 reviews for the last chapter blew me away! Thank you for the love and kind words; I don't deserve it after making you wait so long. I'm rambling; I'll shut up now. Enjoy!**

 **~ 11 ~**

As it turned out, the mysterious box that Charles had removed from his car actually contained a brand new bike helmet. While he swore he wasn't a gambling man, he took the risk of purchasing one for the distant future when he might invite her for a ride.

Obviously the future came a lot sooner than either had expected.

Elsie tightened her grip around his waist as they smoothly rounded a corner, taking a longer way back to her house than the most direct route. She let her head fall forwards and rest against the middle of his back, indulging in her thoughts that drifted back to an hour ago.

 _She was barely able to keep up with the intensity of his kiss; as the feeling of becoming overwhelmed started to set in, Charles abruptly pulled away. He didn't go far. A step back and hands that had been unashamedly tussling her hair fell to the roof of his car, letting him open the space between them._

 _He closed his eyes, only for the briefest of moments, not long enough for her to shake the surprised and dazed look on her face._

 _"_ _Well..." Was all he could say. She didn't blame his ineloquence, not when she registered the higher pitch in his usually deep tone and realised he was perhaps a little speechless. She, on the other hand, let the first words that came to mind tumble ungraciously forth from her well-kissed mouth._

 _"_ _It's nice to think my attraction to you isn't one sided."_

 _Oh, why? Oh God ,who actually says things like that..._

 _As if by an act of mercy, Charles chuckled. "It's not one-sided. No." Something in the look she gave Charles seemed to ask an explanation of him, though she only felt amused by his answer. He cleared his throat thickly, "I just... I thought it would be better to be honest."_

 _"_ _Thank you for that." And oh she was thankful. That knot in her stomach had unravelled very quickly._

 _At this, the ease in tension, they separated slowly, but not before he kissed her swollen bottom lip lightly. She wondered if he noticed her little habit of gnawing on it._

The air around them was cold and she snuggled unashamedly against him for the small bit of warmth permeating his jacket. This might have presented an opportunity to simply cuddle him, but they didn't establish any change in their relationship. Oh they'd kissed- made out, more like- but the lack of conversation afterwards left her in a lull. Were they together now? Was it a one-off thing; a release for the tension that had been building? Thinking back, she was immensely proud of herself for taking the leap and kissing him in the first place. Had he rejected her, even politely, she'd feel ashamed.

But what had he said? He kissed her back. But not in immediate response to her kiss...no, that wasn't it. Her kiss was a declaration; she didn't care about her reputation. God forbid she waited for him to make a move; he'd never tarnish her good name, so honestly, she doubted they'd ever get any forward momentum. She had to make that decision herself. Well, she'd made it and it seemed to give him permission to reciprocate her feelings. He hadn't tried to convince her to change her mind, though really she thought he would have. Why didn't he?

She smiled when she realised. She chose to put it down to respect for her decision. Well, hadn't she asked him for such a thing only moments prior? At least he listened to her plea.

If he'd made the first move, perhaps she'd think he was taking advantage of her, but he could have done that on the stairs in the theatre. And it just wasn't his way. They may still be getting to know one another, but she knew enough of him to think him entirely incapable of such behaviour.

Really, it was Charles who was risking the most. It was one thing to have people whisper and gossip about you. It was another to lose your job.

It was very much in her nature to return the respect for her decision, to let him put his job on the line, but she had to say _something_.

She felt the bike wobble slightly as they slowed by the curb and was glad for the immediate sense of balance his long legs provided upon touching the ground and walking to a stop. She was glad he didn't see her nearly fall from the seat, where he remained when she took her helmet off.

He pulled his off too, his glossy curls puffed in all directions. He ran his fingers through them, stopping briefly to scratch his head.

Okay, maybe she wouldn't hackle him his decision to throw caution to the wind, but she wanted- no, needed this to be done carefully. It was so easy with Charles, which carried a feeling of recklessness with it. Charles had shown his trustworthiness and restraint repeatedly, even in his garage just now. How easy it would be to just get lost in him. When they spent time together, he was very good at making her _not_ feel like a student. He never patronised her intellectually, although he did sound a little haughty at times, but he usually caught himself. But a romantic relationship was far different and would require more care.

"Um..." She began, drawing his attention to her, "I want us to be friends. Good friends."

She didn't miss the disappointment in his eyes.

"And nothing more?" He asked, his sadness as clear as day under the streetlight.

"No! I mean, like... warm friendship or-"

"Warm friendship?" He was clearly becoming more confused.

"I'm sorry... I, um, I mean, I want us to be good friends first. Get that part right." She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut, concentrating on what exactly she wanted to say.

"First..." he said slowly, as if tasting the word. The way he nodded thoughtfully gave her good reason to believe he understood her meaning. Friends before entering a relationship. He took a breath, not quite a sigh. One ready to change the subject. "Are we still alright for Saturday? I've been looking forward to our little day-trip."

"Yes! I'm still looking forward to it. Although I wish you'd given me a clue."

"I'll give you one when I pick you up. How about that?"

"I suppose." By now she had her arms firmly wrapped around her, goosebumps prickling her skin, which Charles now noticed.

"Speaking of warmth... Go inside. It's cold out here."

She heartily agreed, but this felt nice; just being with him. Being alone with Joe always felt tense, just because she didn't know if he was going to make any advances or what was expected of her. Knowing that Charles would give her a big say in the pace at which their relationship grew, she left completely in control and hence, thankfully, completely at ease with him. So standing out here, very much alone, after a solid session of invigorating kissing, she still felt comfortable. That and he'd proven himself a gentleman.

"Alright. Text me when you get home?" She asked hopefully, waiting beside him as he squeezed his head into his helmet. "Just for peace of mind... So I know you got home alright. I'm sure you're a good driver but... Just humour me?" Charles lifted his visor.

"I can," the wrinkles around her eyes gave away his hidden smile; she was perhaps being a little silly and maybe he knew that, but she just wanted the excuse to message him. The turned the ignition and the bike roared to life beneath him, but before he looked to be leaving, Charles reached a hand out, palm up.

As cold as it was, Elsie still placed her hand lightly in his. She wondered if he would kiss it or pull her in for a hug. He did neither. He simply held her hand, caressing his thumb over her knuckles and then slowly let her go. Had she envisaged this scene at any other time, she may have felt disappointment; in this moment, she was glad for the simply gesture.

"Goodnight Elsie." His voice was muffled under his helmet and almost lost in the groaning rumble of his prized Triumph.

"Goodnight Charles," she smiled perhaps a little too soppily.

~ EC ~

"Who was that?! What are you doing riding around with a bikie?! I brought John around and you weren't here, and you didn't reply to any of my texts!"

Elsie was violently startled by the verbal bombardment of her housemate as soon as she shut the door. It wasn't so much her friend's unexpected appearance, but more the animated outburst which was very different to Anna's normally demure nature. Ignoring the first line of inquiry, she pulled her phone out. Of course there were a few messages from Anna and Thomas, as well as more than a few gladly ignored messages from Joe.

"Oh, you did message me." Elsie bit her lip, only for a moment; she didn't need to look any guiltier. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to ignore you. And for not hanging around to meet John. I had to go somewhere." Elsie pocketed her phone and tried to sidestep Anna, who mirrored her movement and stayed directly in her path.

Anna wasn't silly; she'd caught a glimpse or two of Elsie's temper, usually directed at her phone or the wifi. The younger woman held up her hands in a peaceful gesture at Elsie's deep tell-tale huff that often preceded an angry rant.

"I'm not upset. Don't mind me. You just surprised me, that's all. I got worried."

Elsie deflated a little. Anna was a kind soul and rarely meddled; she wouldn't fault the girl her concern.

"I should have left a note or something. I did want to meet John tonight but I was invited over to a friend's place."

"Just a friend...?"

Should she tell Anna? She could keep a secret and would it really hurt to let one or two people know? Of course it mattered if she told the wrong people. Thomas would never say anything; she knew that already. But despite his occasionally flippant, feminine tendencies, it didn't compare to confiding in another woman. Thomas and Anna. She could trust them to understand the consequences. But maybe Anna didn't need to know the details just yet.

"Well, for now he is. Maybe, eventually..." she let Anna come to her own conclusion and shrugged a shoulder. Anna smiled meekly and nodded understandingly. As the silence between them grew, Anna gave her an out.

"He does have a really nice bike."

Elsie giggled and nodded, "I know... But he's not a bikie."

"So no beard and tattoos?"

Elsie couldn't hold back her shriek of laughter at the mental image of Charles with a long beard.

~ EC ~

It only took two more pleading, insistent messages from Joe for Elsie to decide to finally block him. A small niggling voice in the back of her head wondered if that would actually help, but she pushed those worries aside and enjoyed the comfortable silence in the car. She was still frowning as she turned a banana over in her hands. She'd given Charles the oddest look when she'd buckled her seatbelt and turned to him to say- well, she couldn't remember what it was- but she'd been offered a banana of all things. Apparently it was her clue.

It was quite frustrating because she felt like it was obvious. Then again, she couldn't profess to know a lot about bananas. Charles had chuckled and offered her another hint but she'd stubbornly declined. She'd get it. She knew she would. And she utterly refused to resort to Google on her phone.

Although that particular determination was fading fast.

"This is going to drive me nuts..." she murmered and as an act of defiance, peeled the fruit and took a bite.

"You mean bananas?" Charles offered her with a far too amused grin.

"Oh don't you start."

"I can just tell you."

"No." she grumped, "I'll get it."

"Well we've only got another forty five minutes and we'll be there so you'll definitely know by then. To be fair, unless you know the history of the place, it's not so obvious."

"I'm going to be smacking my forehead when I work it out aren't I?"

Charles lifted an eyebrow thoughtfully before bluntly replying, "Yes."

Elsie sighed. She could leave it and be surprised. But she'd probably end up feeling like a bit of an idiot if she didn't decipher his clue. Her original thought was a zoo somewhere but Charles had vetoed that suggestion. And what kind of bloody clue was a damn piece of fruit anyway? what could be learned from a single Cavendish-

"Oh my god, we're going to Chatsworth!" She didn't mean to startle Charles nor slap her hand to his shoulder so hard. He didn't seem to mind as he smiled at her. "Cavendish bananas come from Chatsworth!"

"I knew you'd get it in the end. I'm guessing you've never been there?"

"No! I've always wanted to go though. I just haven't had the chance with all my schoolwork... and you know, funds... Car... Sense of direction."

"Well, I'm glad for it. I spent a lot of time there when I was studying and you said you liked visiting the houses in Scotland and I thought it would be a good way to spend a day together..."

He didn't need to justify his reasoning. Elsie pressed a hand to his thigh, effectively silencing his slightly flustered speech, "It was very thoughtful, Charles. I have always wanted to go."

Charles smiled again, though this time a bit more shyly. He cleared his throat and she suspected a change of subject to follow, recognising her queue to withdraw her hand.

"It might not be my business to ask, but... I hope that ex of yours has stopped bothering you..."

Where circumstances even slightly different, she'd agree that it wasn't his business. But that would be a bit of a step backwards in their unspoken agreement to slowly pursue a relationship. She would be honest with him. Right from the start.

"I ended up blocking him. I'd rather not have the distraction," she licked her lips and contemplated whether to continue. Oh why not? "...Not when I have more important things to attend to."

She probably shouldn't have been pleased by the immediate blush to Charles' cheeks. But she was.

~ EC ~

She was glad that Charles didn't make fun of the way she stood with her mouth hanging open while he locked the car.

Even from the car park at the back of the estate, the house was utterly breathtaking. The grass was perfectly green, dotted with an array of ancient trees, all guarded with calming mosses. The coffee and pepper brickwork stood proudly down the path upon which many guest milled about with their cameras and backpacks, some regally impartial to the magnificence of the estate, others visibly giddy.

The light fingers to her back, nudging her along, pulled Elsie out of her awed revere.

"Come on. It's much better inside." He stood a few steps ahead, one hand in one pocket. The other he held out to her. She couldn't know how nervous he was, standing and desperately hoping she'd take it.

He didn't have to wait too long. Elsie took a deep, restorative breath and took his hand. He held it loosely, the idea of linking their fingers completely seemed too intimate at this stage. She was thankful for that too. It was easy to step back and gather herself if she needed. The pace was whatever she wanted it to be, or in fairness, whatever he wanted it to be, if she was comfortable with it.

They meandered through the courtyard together, not quite following the crowds or the guided tours and finally made it inside. Elsie was perfectly content to listen to Charles as they slowly passed through the corridors that were lined with red carpets that felt too lush to be walked upon and under chandeliers too extravagant for a girl as common as Elsie thought herself. It was nice actually. Not to follow the guided tours. Charles clearly had an extensive understanding of the history of the estates; he could regale stories about the first three Earls and the twelve Dukes. In fact, she had guessed that he'd spent _a lot_ of time here, as he would occasionally greet people who worked in the estate by name.

Elsie kept her hold on his hand as they passed through the Sculpture Gallery.

"...Now don't get me wrong, Fred Astaire was a remarkable entertainer, but it was his sister Adele the British really loved. She ended up marrying Charles Cavendish, who was the second son of the ninth Duke..."

Although she was listening, she was enraptured by the some of the marble statues. Charles stopped and simply watched her as she took in the room. He'd been here plenty of times and while the awe and wonder had worn off for him, he could appreciate the admiration in her eyes. They were interrupted before Elsie noticed his silence.

"Charles Carson?"

Charles and Elsie turned to the smartly dressed middle aged woman who approached them. Elsie only briefly glanced at her name-tag to see that she was the curator.

"Good morning Hayley, it's wonderful to see you." Though he did release Elsie's hand to shake the woman's in polite greeting, he stood steadfast by his charge's side. She was pleased that he was quick to introduce her. "This is Elsie Hughes; she's not seen the estate before today."

Elsie shook Hayley's hand and made an effort to smile politely, not wanting to embarrass Charles in any way.

"Well, welcome to Chatsworth, Elsie. I see you have a very capable guide."

Elsie now smiled at Charles, though not as affectionately as she would in private. "I do. This place is absolutely incredible. I'm studying Heritage Management and this has been such a wonderful experience." She agreed.

Hayley's eyebrows lifted in pleasant surprise. "Heritage Management? Then I can think of a few rooms that may interest you," she then turned her attention back to Charles, "The Great Dining Room is closed to the public today, but I will allow you to sneak in. You know your way there, Mr. Carson. And if you haven't been through, I strongly recommend the Painted Hall."

"We've not made it that far, but we certainly will if you'll allow it." Charles nodded graciously.

"Of course, although, I believe the Duke is floating around. Fair warning."

Charles thanked Hayley as she left and offered Elsie his hand again. "Shall we?"

"It was kind of the curator to let us go into rooms that are closed off." Elsie mused as Charles led her through the endless corridors and heavy doors. The presence of tourists slowly disappeared and workers began to emerge, though very few seemed perturbed by their being there.

"Hayley has been curator here for a very long time; we corresponded often when I was studying."

Charles released her hand and opened a particularly grand looking door for her. "Ladies first," he offered, holding the door open and gesturing for her to enter.

At first, Elsie's eyes were drawn to the beautifully cut black and white marble floors before she slowly lifted her gaze to the gold leafed handrail and intricately carpeted stairs, up to the beautiful and enormous painting depicting Julius Caesar. Her eyes lifted higher and she stood transfixed at the base of the stairs looking straight up at the ceiling. Her breath was pulled from her body at the sight of the artwork.

"My goodness..." It took almost a full minute to tear her eyes from the scene above. It didn't occur to her that he had simply stood watching her the whole time. "It's beautiful, Charles." She couldn't help but look up again, slowly turning over the shining floor in wonder. "Absolutely amazing."

Elsie stopped abruptly. She'd been to castles and houses in Scotland; surely she looked a bit silly.

"Don't mind me. I must be a sight... flannelling around like a girl at Disneyland," She chuckled at her own self deprecation. There was something in his dark eyes that paralysed her completely as he stepped forwards slowly.

"Actually, I think you're rather terrific."

Elsie couldn't look at him. It was hard to respond to these sweet little remarks. Why did he have to be so nice? If he was any more exuberant with his compliments, she would doubt his sincerity. She never was able to believe anyone that told her she was beautiful or wonderful or anything like that. But Charles would manage to sneak in a kind word here and there, subdued enough to suit her self esteem and perk her up a little.

"What's going on in that mind of yours, Elsie?"

Elsie bit her lip and still couldn't meet his eye, speaking to his shoes. "I was thinking about how you're a nice man who says nice things. And how I'm not so used to hearing them said to me." She looked up, but it was hard to keep eye contact with his concerned gaze. "And how the way I feel about myself makes it difficult to hear the kind things you say to me."

Charles was quite for a long while. He'd said in the past that he wasn't too good with words so she easily forgave his pensive silence. It gave her time to muster the courage to look at him again. She was the one that asked to be friends first, but sharing her insecurities now, in this safe place that their agreement afforded them, felt like a step in the right direction. A deep breath through his nose and the gentle grasp of her elbows pulled her attention back to him. Without realising, Elsie laid her hands on his hips.

"I wish you liked yourself as much as I like you. Although you may not agree with me, I hope you'll accept that _I_ believe what I say. I will say you're terrific and beautiful and deserving of every kind of happiness and I'm afraid you'll just have to accept that I truly believe what I say."

"Well... I can only try. But I hope you'll allow the same from me."

"And what nice things would you say about me?"

Elsie swallowed and felt her body begin to tremble. "That... That I think you're quite good looking... And very proper and even though you're not so good at picking up the obvious every time, you notice things most guys wouldn't... And maybe that you're unlike anyone I've ever met."

By now she was shaking completely, so overcome with nerve to continue.

Charles pulled her into his chest and cuddled her, his warmth calming her nervous state. She didn't feel trapped by his embrace; she felt safe. It didn't cause her any further worry when she felt his lips press to her head. In fact, she felt quite brave when she turned to look up and him and gave him the smallest nod. His lips brushed hers briefly, but it was enough.

~ EC ~

 **We'll catch up with the Duke, Thomas and Beryl next chapter. And Bates! He didn't make this chapter but I do want to see him. I've returned to correct the numerous typos and errors so I hope I'm forgiven. Any thoughts or lame jokes, whack them in the box below :D**


	12. The Doctor's Mistress

**So, as you may have guessed, regular updates are a problem for me. Just put this story on your backburner. However, I am always grateful for the reviews you guys leave :) Even if it's extremely critical. Only way we learn. I'm personally not on the Thomas/Jimmy train (Spoiler alert) but if you are, you get a tiny dose of it. Sort of. Some dramatically dense life shite in here. Swear word warning for the second scene. There's a lot of it in there. Mistakes are mine, though I hope there are none.**

~ 12 ~

Having seen more of the estate than she guessed the average tourist would ever see, Elsie was finally ready to head home at quarter to five. She was gladder than she would ever say that when they'd been snuck upon by the thirteenth Duke, she hadn't embarrassed herself or Charles. Actually she was quite proud when she'd remembered to call him 'Your Grace' without prompting and politely introduced herself. She put on her most charming smile and praised the recent improvements while somehow managing to sound like she knew what she was talking about. If only Charles had put in his two cents on the conversation, but his pleased smile and the sparkle in his eyes told her that she was doing perfectly well on her own.

"It's getting quite late. Did you want to stop somewhere for tea?" Charles asked, his elbow brushing her upper arm as he gravitated towards her on the way to the car park.

"I'm not fussed, really, but if we do I'd like it to be quiet."

"Or, if you like, we can stop at mine before I drop you home? My repertoire is _extremely_ limited, but I can make a worthy bowl of pasta." He offered over the top of the car before they opened the doors. Elsie tilted her head thoughtfully. Really a night in was always preferable to the publicity of dining out, and she trusted Charles to not get carried away.

"I would like that. But no meat in the pasta sauce please," she added with a dismissive wave of her hand. They slid in at the same time.

"I may need to reconsider this relationship," he deadpanned, staring out the window. He turned to Elsie and patted his mostly flat stomach. "I'm a growing lad; I need those hearty meatballs."

Elsie could only scoff; he could be a daft fool and she loved it. She only shook her head, grabbed a handful of the lapel of his jacket and pull him across to press her lips to his. If he was shocked by her boldness, he didn't let on. His lips were soft and perfectly responsive; he somehow knew which way to slant his head and that she liked to kiss his top lip; instantly drawing her bottom lip between his teeth.

When she pulled back a few inches she had to bite back a giggle at his closed eyes and raised eyebrows, the only indication of his surprise.

"No meatballs... Please?"

His answer was breathless and entirely resigned.

"Alright."

~ EC ~

Thomas yawned and rolled his neck, hearing the satisfying clicking. Even the heavy pair of doors through which he'd passed to get to the bathrooms couldn't keep the pounding bass from the disgustingly remixed music in the club. It was still very early and the DJ was only warming up, but he already felt drained. Maybe a few more drinks would loosen the tension.

He'd seen Jimmy in the bar. What a royal fuck up that all was.

Thomas grasped the edge of the sink, his head hanging loosely.

There was nothing to be done. It wasn't like he hadn't tried to talk to Jimmy. Tried to make the snide comments, the rumours, the _looks_ stop. And Jimmy just stood there; he never said anything and he didn't stop his buddies either. It wasn't fair. Why should he have to put up with all the shit at school because he was gay? It was supposed to be a more accepting society wasn't it? Adult learning environment and all that bull?

' _You'd think once you left high school people would learn some tolerance and get over the petty shit'_.

Thomas sniffed and brushed his hand under his nose. Suddenly hanging out at the club had lost it's appeal.

"Fucking dickhead..." he muttered and began to wash his hand, flicking the water off angrily to dry them.

Behind him a toilet flushed and a cubicle door opened. He couldn't be bothered looking up until he heard the painfully familiar curse behind him. His gaze rose to the mirror and just his luck, it was Jimmy Kent behind him, rolling his eyes. Despite his spiteful thoughts, Thomas turned and leaned against the sink.

The bass outside filled the thick silence; Jimmy didn't look him in the eye until he spoke.

"What's going on?" Thomas asked quietly. "You can't ignore me forever, Jimmy."

"Not now, Thomas..." Jimmy tried to dismiss him, tried to push past him, but Thomas gripped his jacket and pressed his lips to the younger man's. At first he resisted; it only took a moment for his lips to relax and enjoy the kiss.

It was as he remembered it; heated, sensual and all too brief. The sudden shove to Thomas' chest has hard enough to knock him to the floor.

"Don't fucking touch me! Leave me alone!" Jimmy screeched, towering over his former lover, pointing his finger at him.

Not to give in so quickly, Thomas scrambled to his feet.

"Hey! You started this!" He lifted a hand and gestured up and down at Jimmy, "Now look at you, macho man, your mates give me shit and you don't say a fucking word!"

"Hey! _I_ don't give you shit! Do I?!"

"But you don't tell them to shut up either, do you?!" Thomas snapped, giving Jimmy a solid push to the shoulder as he stormed out of the bathroom. "Fuckin' pathetic..."

Nearly an hour and a half had passed, most of it spent on the floor of his tiny bedroom angrily crying his heart out that his phone vibrated. He immediately hoped it was Elsie saying she was home; he'd decided to let her in on his complicated history with Jimmy. Sadly, _infuriatingly_ , it was the young man in question that had sent a message.

 _'_ _I'm sorry. I want to talk. I can't show it but you know that I care..._ '

If anything, the apology made him even more livid. Before he could stop himself, his iPhone went flying across the room, smashing the screen on the doorframe.

Just fucking great.

The tears came hard and fast; he couldn't keep the pain down anymore. It hurt too much. He tried desperately to curl his body into a tight ball, falling to his side on the scratchy carpet. Not that he cared. His life was shit and he had no one to turn to except Elsie, who was coming back on a road trip with her new boyfriend. The next closest person was Anna, who'd he'd met a few times whenever he'd visited Elsie. She was nice and always kind but she wasn't a friend. Besides, she was busy with that army fellow.

Why couldn't he find a decent guy? Why was _he_ so damn undeserving?

No use lying here in the dark. Eventually Thomas managed to pull himself up into a sitting position and reached for his phone. The screen had a dim backlight but it was black and unusable. Smart move, wise guy.

He sighed deeply. One thing he'd had to learn was to _try_ and accept the bad things as they came. His phone was broken. Alright. Everything was on the Micro SD card, so it was manageable. If he walked to Elsie and Anna's place, he could probably wait it out there.

Yes. That was infinitely better than lying on the floor.

~ EC ~

"Anna probably thinks I don't want to meet him." Elsie mused as she stretched languidly in her seat. The drive back had been one long, unending conversation. Not that she minded at all; it was quite easy to talk to him. Like a wind down conversation after a long day's work. Of course, they'd disagreed on a few small things, but it was done so respectfully. At one point they'd steered the conversation towards family, though Elsie successfully managed to keep that conversation more towards Charles' history. Not that there was much to say. Raised by loving Grandparents. She didn't ask about his parents and he didn't tell.

It was one thing not to talk about Becky; her sweet baby sister's death still felt fresh. She felt like she was very close to telling Charles, but if she did, she owed him the whole story and that wasn't really a conversation for a road-trip. But maybe tonight when they settled into a quiet night at his house.

"She wouldn't think that, I'm sure. I don't think there's a resentful bone in her body." Charles smiled kindly, the sight of which eased Elsie's guilt a little.

"Well you're right about that. You know, I sometimes worry about her." Elsie yawned again, missing the questioning look Charles gave her.

"Why?"

"Because I keep thinking someone is going to take advantage of her. I mean, don't get me wrong, she's a tough little nut in her own way, but she's so friendly and nice and a damn little _cinnamon roll_ to everyone that I'm waiting for some creep to get the wrong impression. She's not entirely naïve, but still…"

"Well, if this guy she's with is a decent fellow he'll look out for her. And she's got you," His smile was both blatantly affectionate and proud, which only made Elsie tuck in her chin self-consciously. He let it go, as he'd learned to do, but it didn't stop him from saying so in the first place.

"Well… I'm yet the make that judgement. Although I must say, living with her makes me feel older."

His phone vibrated across the dash in front of Elsie; she looked to Charles who nodded at the phone, indicating that she could look. Elsie turned the screen back on and found a lengthy list of notifications.

"I think it's an email... 'reminder, moderation and assessment seminar'..."

"Oh, there's a seminar at the school next Friday. I have to do a certain number of hours training each year."

"Really?" Elsie asked incredulously. Charles nodded, with a hint of annoyed exasperation. "You think you'd be past learning by now."

"Not by a long shot. But don't avoid the conversation: as of two days time, you _will_ be older."

"Oh, don't remind me! Monday can bugger off."

"Now hang on, I'm thirty in two months so don't complain."

"Well that's true. We'll have a short period where there is only a five year age gap between us," Elsie agreed, her eyebrows lifting thoughtfully. Charles, however, took her pensiveness as worry.

"Does it bother you?" He asked, his voice unusually low. His gaze flicked between her and the red stop light they'd pulled up to.

"The age difference?"

"Mmm…" He nodded, watching the traffic light. Elsie shuffled her shoulders into the seat and laced her fingers together in her lap. It was a bit late to suddenly feel bothered by it, wasn't it?

"Not really. I think it's more noticeable when we're younger. If I were fifteen and you were twenty one that's… I mean, that's a bit much for me. Six years is a lot but it'll matter less as we get older."

Charles felt a pleasant warmth grow in his chest when he heard her talk about them growing older. Together. But it was unlikely she could know the effect it had on him.

"What about now?" They continued North through Lincoln; they were nearly home and it gave Elsie the beginnings of an exciting tingle in her belly. By the concern in his voice and the slight arch in his magnificent eyebrows, Elsie knew he worried about the appropriateness of their ages. She reached out, touching her fingers to the back of his neck and rubbing just where his hair started.

"I don't think so. No. Why? Do I make you feel old?" She teased, hoping to lighten the mood. Oddly, Charles didn't seem to detect the humour so easily. Actually, maybe it wasn't so odd. He could be rather literal at times.

"No. I find you mature beyond your years." Somehow he managed to sound like a teacher giving feedback on an assignment, which gave Elsie a tickle of annoyance. Her first instinct was to say something, but she'd learned _very quickly_ that his often blunt remarks were never said to upset her. But all was quickly forgiven when Charles elaborated after a pause for breath; she doubted he saw the critical look on her face. "Just look at how you dote on Daisy or the way you look out for Anna. You don't sleep around like a lot of the young women at the school do; believe me, sensibility is a rare thing for students, even those your age."

She could only raise her eyebrows thoughtfully and nod in agreement.

"Well, you got that right. One of the girls in our group for orientation day was laughing about how she'd already slept with a guy and frankly I just _can't_ do that. I much prefer to be in a solid relationship _before_ I go down that path. It's probably old thinking, but I believe in intimacy between people who actually care for one another. Not just any random person."

Charles was silent and frowned curiously, but kept his eyes on the road as he turned down his street.

Elsie noticed and bit her lip. Oh god. This was the first time either had broached the topic, indirectly in this case. Of course if their new relationship continued it would likely lead to… that. _Come now girl, he just called you 'mature'_. Sex. It would lead to sex. She cared about him, of course. Their relationship would only continue to grow and they would begin to care for each other more. She didn't really anticipate a problem apart from her own reservations and entire lack of experience. But that was the thing. Was he frowning because she'd said she wanted the relationship first? That wasn't an unreasonable request. Although she did say she wanted to take things slow. Did he expect it sooner?

"I hope that's not a problem…?" She asked so quietly she wondered if he'd heard. He did.

"No, it's not. Quite the opposite actually."

What on Earth does that mean?!

She didn't get the chance to answer, the trill of her phone ringing distracted them both from the increasingly tense silence. A quick glance at the screen-

"Sorry, it's Anna."

"No, go for it," Charles dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand as he pulled into his driveway. Elsie swiped her screen to answer.

"Hello?"

" _How far from home are you_?" There was an urgency in Anna's voice, though not quite panic, that had Elsie on edge.

"Not far. Why?"

" _Thomas turned up a few minutes ago; he's in a bit of a state. He said he had a run in with a guy at the club in town and something about 'a group of jackasses',"_ Anna enunciated carefully. _"I think he was looking for you."_

Elsie looked over at Charles, who was watching her with concern. He replaced the keys in the ignition and mouthed _'Your place?'_ , Elsie nodded, a silent ' _please'_ shaping the lips he was beginning to know.

"Is he okay?"

 _"_ _I think he will be if he talks to you. He talked to me a little but… I think you'll be better for him right now. He broke his phone, so he was going to wait here for you. He's watching TV- well, I'm_ _not entirely sure he's actually watching, but he looks quite miserable."_

"Alright, I'll be there soon." She hung up and slumped in her seat again. The only group she could think of was those boys that he'd pointed out once who'd been harassing him.

"Everything alright?" Charles asked after a moment.

"Sounds like those boys that bully Thomas had a go at him tonight."

To her surprise, Charles actually sounded quite concerned, "Thomas gets bullied?"

"Well his _preferences_ aren't widely known, but there's a particular group with do give him a hard time. They've even gotten physical with him a few times. I thought things were getting better…"

Charles had let go of his jealousy of Thomas quite a while ago. He certainly couldn't say he liked the lad, but he knew the kid had a very limited group of friends. In fact, really, Elsie was it. That didn't bother him anymore; not to mention that it deflected attention away from his own interests in Elsie. More importantly, Elsie made sure that the time spent with Thomas never took away the time she spent with _him_.

~ EC ~

"I hate that he does this. He's got one face in public and a different one with me." Thomas angrily flicked his cigarette- a habit that surprised Elsie- on the ground as he paced across the back lawn with one hand in his pocket. Elsie simply watched him as he rambled, tucked up on the steps by the back door. It was dark outside but it seemed easier for Thomas to talk out here.

"And he doesn't say anything to his friends?"

"Nope. Just stands there and listens to the shit they say about me and the absolutely nasty shit they say to my face. Filthy stuff that I wouldn't even tell you," he pointed to her with his cigarette, balancing loosely between two fingers. 'Doesn't want to admit he's Bi, but he is," Thomas smirked, though it was a sad one and Elsie could still see the shine on his cheeks from when he'd been crying. "Says he cares about me and shit like that. He blames me for our little tumble, you know. I've supposed to give him the brush off when he said comes crawling to me, confused about his feelings for me and says he wants to 'give it a try'."

Elsie was old fashioned, but if one thing about the modern world had rubbed off on her, it was her ability to easily accept the right people had to their sexuality.

"Thomas, you can't love half a person. It doesn't matter how nice and wonderful he is to your face if he treats you poorly behind your back. If he cares for you, he'll respect you even when you aren't around. Forgive me for saying so, but I think you deserve a lot better than that idiot."

She could only think of Charles as she said this. She wanted to believe that he would honour their relationship even in her physical absence.

"Yeah… I know." He sounded so defeated, it simultaneously made her terribly sad and filled her with a determination to see him happy.

After talking for another hour, Elsie had walked him the five minutes back to his house and insisted he get some sleep. She was entirely serious when she warned him not to reply to any of Jimmy's attempt to contact him or she'd cut the power in his building. The dingy little flat wasn't much, but he didn't spend a lot of time there anyway. She'd given him a hug, rubbed his shoulder and nudged him through his door.

It was almost nine o'clock but she hoped Charles was still awake. She'd apologised profusely when he'd dropped her home, even though he'd readily forgiven her and told her to message him later. She pulled out her phone as she neared the corner that led down to his street; it would be so easy to divert to his place. But it was late and surely he'd be in bed.

"Only one way to find out," she muttered, stopping on the corner to message him.

 _'_ _You still awake?'_

The clock on her phone read 20:56 and she decided to wait on the corner until exactly nine. She didn't have to wait more than thirty seconds.

 _'_ _Yes. Thomas okay?'_

 _'_ _Yeah. Just sent him home. Too late for me to drop in? I missed dinner :)'_ She was no longer hesitant to use smiley faces, but the winking face was still used _very_ sparingly.

 _'_ _I have no pasta made, but you can stop by. Front door is unlocked. Might be asleep on the couch soon though.'_

 _'_ _I'll risk it.'_

It only took a few minutes to reach his house; the lights were off so she knocked quietly as she slowly opened his front door. His footsteps could be clearly heard approaching her before revealing a very tired looking Charles with his phone in his hand and his shirt half untucked. He was still dressed from their trip so she didn't feel like she'd pulled him from his bed.

"Hello," he yawned, stepping aside to let her in. Her guilt got the better of her.

"I should have let you go to bed."

Charles shook his head, albeit with his eyes closed. It was quite adorable with his hair messed as it was. "I don't mind. Not really."

Charles shut the door behind her and followed her down the hall, yawning again.

"Did you fall asleep on the couch?"

"I admit I did. I was going to stay up for the Jonathan Ross show."

Elsie reached for his hand and pulled him through to his living room. She was feeling tired herself and wordlessly directe him to sit down; after a quick assessment of his sofa, she was pleased to conclude that they could both fit on it quite comfortably.

"Lie down and we can watch TV together. And if you fall asleep, you won't be so uncomfortable."

Charles didn't even put up a fight, flipping his feet up and stretching his legs before settling away from the backrest. He didn't make any offer to stay awake and drive her home, which suggested that he was fine with the likely prospect of both of them falling asleep on the couch. He plumped the cushion behind his head while Elsie fired off a quick text to Anna, advising her that she wouldn't likely be home. Anna seemed very okay with this when she replied.

Tossing her phone onto the floor beside the sofa, which ended up halfway over Charles', she accepted the politely offered hand and crawled over him. It was as she was directly over him that it occurred to her that despite her original intention to take things slowly, she found that she didn't necessarily _want_ to. Hadn't their relationship started with a very intense kiss in this very house? Sure, they'd limited themselves comfortably to only a few kisses, plenty of text messages and more than enough time simply talking and learning about one another. But they had a friendship before all this, didn't they? Albeit a slightly formal one.

But if she was comfortable with the idea of sleeping beside him at his house, why couldn't they move forward? She wasn't ready for real intimacy, not yet anyway, but things would be slow between them anyway thanks to the need for some secrecy.

"Wait." She paused above him, biting her lip and nodding thoughtfully, firming her decision in her head.

"What?" Charles stiffened and looked suddenly quite awake.

"I've changed my mind… About us."

Charles immediately looked crestfallen, but didn't move beneath her, for which she was glad.

"You have me very worried, Elsie."

"Don't be." She took a shuddering breath and Charles waited. "I mean… when I said I wanted us to start out as friends, I meant it, but I think I was a bit afraid… or nervous, at least. It took me a little bit to work out what I wanted, but I think I know now. I want… more of this." Her fingers flexed restlessly over his chest, pulling the pocket of his shirt.

"I won't press you, Elsie. I don't slide so easily into relationships so I find I rather like your pace."

"I know. I mean, I know that _now_. And I trust you when you say that."

"We were friends before all this. That won't change."

"I know. I'm sorry, I just had to be sure of you."

Charles finally relaxed beneath her and lazily wrapped his arms around her waist. "Don't be sorry. It's not like you made me wait that long."

Finally she was able to laugh, "No. And I admit I admired you long before the other night in your garage, so I feel like I've waited long enough."

"I don't think it's a secret, not to you, that the feeling is mutual."

"Not if I stop and think about it. So…"

Charles tilted his head on the cushion. "So?"

Elsie bit her lip and shyly looked down at her hands. "So would you like to be my significant other?"

"I'm so glad you didn't say 'boyfriend'."

"Your welcome," she teased, "and for future reference, I would like to be introduced as 'the Doctor's Mistress'."

This earned her a loud groan in what was probably anguish or disgust. Regardless, she chose to silence him by pressing her lips to his and let her hands slide up his chest and behind his head. It had the desired effect. Not only had she silenced him, but she felt him positively melt beneath her and languidly kiss her back. They'd only really kissed like this once, but it felt like second nature to tilt her head to the right, nestling her nose against his.

~ EC ~

 **Well that was longer than I intended. No wonder it took longer. A bit of Daisy and Beryl next time and Mr Effing Bates. Because he keeps ducking and dodging his introduction. Gimpy lovable bastard.** **And old ghosts of Elsie and Charlie's past float through.**


	13. Mr Bates

**A/Ramble: I wanted to write more, but I have to keep the ball rolling. This is my tidbit offering.**

~ 13 ~

It was cold when Elsie was jolted from her light slumber. They didn't make it through the Jonathan Ross show as the pull of sleep proved too great. When she initially imagined sleeping with him on the couch she did not consider that it may prove less than comfortable or that she would have trouble sleeping when she was so used to being alone. Her heart hammered in her chest, almost painfully as she tried not to breathe too deeply, too loudly; she didn't want to wake Charles.

They were always of the same scenes, although time had reduced the vivid images to strong feelings and strange flashes. Panic. Fear. Blue lips and clouded eyes. Messed hair and piercing silence. The police on her doorstep and a room full of black clothes. Therapy and shards of glass. It was her own silence on the subject that was starting to hurt more that the silence of Becky's bedroom. Of the private hospital room. She'd debated plenty of times whether to tell Anna or Thomas. Lying here in the darkness with Charles made her wonder if she could break that silence now.

"You alright?" Charles mumbled quietly, his chin pressing against the top of her head. Damn, she'd woken him.

"Bit of a nightmare..." she half yawned.

"Then you're better off awake."

An opening. She could do it. She took a breath, opened her mouth to speak- the words wouldn't come. She didn't know how to start. What would he think? They were there. All the events that slowly took her family one by one, the therapy and the decision to get away from it all. Everything that led her here from a once happy existence. Not that happiness wasn't slowly creeping back into her life...

"What's the time?" She tried to reach over him to find her phone, but he answered her before she found it.

"After one."

"Did you sleep?"

Charles shifted beneath her. "A little, but I've been awake a while. Do you want me to run you home?"

Elsie snuggled back into his chest. A silly part of her which she quickly silenced believed that she already was _home_. It was too early for such thinking. "Honestly? No, but I'm not very comfortable and I'm getting cold."

He rubbed a few circles on her back. "Hop up. You can sleep in my bed."

Collecting both of their phones, he took her hand and led her through the dark house to his bedroom. It only occurred to her as she touched the door on the way in that he'd said only _she_ could sleep in his bed.

"What about you? I hope you aren't going back to that sofa."

"I was raised to be a gentleman... Supposedly." He guided her hand to the top of his bed, where she gripped the sheet and blankets, drawing them back. "Get in. We can bend the rules and live a little."

"Glad I can be such a negative influence."

When she realised that he'd slipped between the blankets so as to keep them somewhat separate as opposed to under them with her, she couldn't help the chuckle that escaped.

"Well played."

"I have my moments." Again, her mind wove romantic notions of spooning together, curling up like kittens and mewling until sleep took them. But it was just as nice when Charles stayed on the other side of the bed. He didn't make a move to touch her; they simply lay facing each other. It was probably for this reason that she could actually fall away into a calmer slumber.

~ EC ~

It was still dark when Charles had woken her with soft brushes of his fingers to her cheeks; just after six. He silently helped her up and took her home, offering a sweet kiss to her forehead while she smiled sleepily. Her house was quiet and cold, save for a light in the hall that led to the laundry. It was unlike Anna to leave lights on, but Elsie merely yawned and stumbled sleepily towards the back of the house to turn it off. She fully intended to crawl into her own bed and sleep some more. It was Sunday after all. And tomorrow she would be twenty-four. Charles hadn't brought it up when he'd dropped her home, but then again, she'd yet to bring up his birthday which was in six weeks time.

She tossed her keys on the sofa as she passed through the living room and froze mid-step at a sudden odd sound. Thumping footsteps echoed through the house on the wooden floor and the light in the hallway turned off. Someone was in the house. She knew Anna's gait and these loud, uneven steps were not hers. Shit. Now what? Well, she couldn't very well stand here- the footsteps were getting closer. Shit shit shit.

A tall, dark-haired man with an amused smirk stood with his hand on the light switch, which completely startled Elsie and set a doe eyed look on her face. He lifted an eyebrow and adjusted his grip on the quilt tucked into his elbow, which, she now saw, also cradled a cane.

"Hello." He greeted her simply.

"And who are you?" Elsie asked with a scowl. Although, she would look back on this moment and realise that the answer was perhaps a bit obvious.

"John Bates." At this, Elsie let out the breath she held. "Anna's, um... Boyfriend."

"The elusive Corporal Bates. We finally manage to cross paths." She ran a hair through her ruffled hair and approached him. _God, I must be a sight. Well, if he's staying overnight, they must be getting serious so he might as well get used to it_. She politely held out her hand, which he shook. "Elsie Hughes."

"Formerly a Corporal. I've been long discharged from the Army... And it's nice to meet you, Elsie. I'm sorry we've kept missing each other all this time."

"Well, never mind that. I hope you don't mind if I head on up to bed." She pointed a thumb to upstairs.

"Of course. I was just getting another blanket." He opened a hand, letting her pass. A thought occurred to Elsie, halting her and she looked over her shoulder at John.

"Is this the first time you've stayed over?"

John at least had the decency to look sheepish at the accusation. Elsie couldn't help it; she wasn't Anna's sister or mother, but she felt responsible for the younger girl. Perhaps a habit she'd yet to shake from all those months of caring for Becky, for the most part, on her own. It wasn't like their father actually cared for either of them before he left.

"Yes. I don't get to come up this way often and Anna said you were spending the night away with your partner."

She couldn't stop the crimson that painted her cheeks if she'd tried. _Fair enough._ She tried to quietly clear her throat while she formulated an explanation.

"Yes, I was." She debated whether or not to lie and elaborate, but at John's unquestioning nod of understanding, she was relieved to know that she wouldn't have to deceive him.

~ EC ~

 _Monday  
9_ _th_ _November 2015_

While Charles had once been pleased with his trusty thermos' ability to keep his morning coffee blisteringly hot an hour after he'd brewed it, he couldn't hold back the curse that passed his lips when the loose cap broke off completely and spilled over the back of his hand as he crossed the courtyard. The pain was brief and left his hand irritated for a while after but ultimately it was the least of his worries.

It was Elsie's birthday and he was yet to decide on anything appropriate to give her or to do with her.

Not for a lack of trying mind you. He'd certainly been putting a lot of thought into it. For a long while he'd settled on the idea of another poetry book but in the end it just wasn't quite right. He was half committed to the idea of cooking dinner for her. Not that he was a particularly good cook, but he intended to ask for Beryl's help in that regard. His real offering for Elsie would be a nicely set table with all the finery and ceremony that she'd admired at Chatsworth. He was confident he could deliver that without difficulty.

His thoughts were disturbed by a particularly loud chorus of laughter from a group of boys loitering under a tree on the grass. Normally he would have taken little notice if not for Thomas and his deep scowl as he sped past the group, stalking in Charles' direction. Charles stopped to take in the lad's expression change from anger to hurt and to an extent, distress. These must be the boys that Elsie had described to him. His attention drifted from Thomas to the youths still sneering at his back. All except one, James, who remained quiet; although this invoked very little sympathy from Charles.

In this moment, Charles wasn't sure whether to offer a word of comfort to Thomas or to chastise the rowdy lads under the tree. Once upon a time, he might have said nothing. But he was better than that. Or at least, he tried to be.

"Mr Barrow."

Thomas slowed and his shoulders slumped, as if expecting some kind of punishment. The words didn't need to be spoken but Thomas clearly expected his day to worsen. Surely his outlook on life was not so bleak? The lad was a magnet for trouble sometimes but Charles was quite sure that he didn't deserve whatever juvenile nastiness to which he'd been just subjected.

"Yes, Mr Carson?" Thomas replied wearily, unable to keep the tinge of impertinence from his voice. Charles bit his tongue and forced himself to ignore the tone.

"Perhaps it's not my business, but I hope those boys aren't giving you too much trouble."

Thomas shrugged a shoulder and looked away. Ah, they were, and it seemed that Elsie had been forthright in her assessment. Thomas endured this often.

"What does it matter, Mr Carson, if they are. Thank you for your concern, but I don't need your pity-"

"It's not pity that I'm giving you, Thomas." Charles cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. "Perhaps I might not have noticed you as easily if not for Elsie, I'll not lie on that account, but that is not the reason for my concern."

At this, Thomas frowned in curiosity, which lessened Charles' courage and the words came with greater difficulty.

"You deserve far better, Thomas. Don't let them make you think any less."

Thomas's change in expression was slight but he was clearly surprised. He dropped his gaze and then looked up again, nodding slowly.

"Thank you, Mr Carson."

The younger man walked on and Charles was left with the feeling that he and Thomas were now on relatively peaceful terms. It was odd, but his desire to be a better man had helped him to be more accepting of things that he'd struggled with in the past. It came back to Elsie, of course; romantic attachment was a powerful motivator for change. Charles watched Thomas continue across the courtyard, his stance a little straighter now. That pleased him. It probably wasn't what Charles had said about deserving better; any person with low self esteem would struggle to take in such advise. Charles knew that from personal experience. It was probably that someone had noticed and taken the time to offer some encouragement that made Thomas feel better. If Elsie was right, Thomas had very few friends; there was only so much Elsie could do to keep the lads spirits up. Charles was learning to accept, not just tolerate, Thomas for Elsie's sake, given their mutual friendship in the young Scot. Offering the lad a bit of kindness and support went beyond that and it was entirely his own decision.

And he realised that it actually made him feel _good_.

~ EC ~

 **I'm off to pack for my first trip overseas! I'm solo road tripping around New Zealand for 2 weeks. I'm excited and nervous, but I'll have a ball. Leave me some sugar Love and I'll write some more on my holiday.**


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